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Icktmuh.  nt-,  /X  lp/\7psc  ftfoetc,  buzz,  dt 

Joan  of  Arc. 

A 


% 


mgrapfe. 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH 


By  Sarah  M.  Grimké. 


BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED  BY  ADAMS  & CO., 
2i  Bromfield  Street. 

1867. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1867,  by 
ADAMS  & COMPANY, 

In  the  Clerk’s  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massa- 
chusetts. 


Stereotyped  by  C.  J.  Peters  & Son, 
13  Washington  Street,  Boston. 


Press  of  Geo.  C.  Rand  & Avery,  3 ComhilL 


PREFATORY. 


Few  of  her  biographers  seem  to  have 
appreciated  the  character  of  Joan  of  Arc. 
Lamartine  and  Henri  Martyn  understand 
her  better  than  any  others.  To  them  and  to 
other  authentic  sources  I am  indebted  for 
the  materials  of  the  following  sketch.  In- 
deed, it  is  in  the  main  a free  translation, 
greatly  condensed.,  of  Lamartine’s  “Jeanne 
d’Arc.” 

The  record  of  her  trial  is  still  unpub- 
lished, in  the  Royal  Library  of  Paris.  “ It 
is  truly  disgraceful,”  says  Henri  Martyn, 
“ that  the  materials  for  the  history  of  Joan 
of  Arc  have  not  yet  been  collected,  and 
given  to  the  public  officially.”  We  learn 
from  the  same  source  that  this  forgetful- 
ness, or  rather  this  national  ingratitude,  is 


3 


4 


P REF  A TOR  Y. 


about  to  be  repaired  by  tlie  Historical  So- 
ciety of  France. 

She  seems  to  have  been  a being  by  her- 
self, — a woman  in  all  gentleness,  tender 
yearnings,  and  fortitude  sublime  ; a man 
in  intellect,  heroic  daring,  and  loftiest  as- 
piration ; a warrior  attaining  the  highest 
military  honors,  and  wearing  them  with 
utmost  humility.  She  towers  above  all 
others  in  the  greatness  of  her  achievements, 
the  rounded  completeness  of  her  character, 
and  in  her  superhuman  sway  alike  over  the 
mightiest  and  the  meanest  in  the  realm. 

Next  to  Jesus,  she  seeins  to  have  been 
the  grandest  medium  of  divine  communi- 
cation ; a being  sent  from  a higher  sphere 
to  allure  and  buoy  us  upward.  Her  in- 
spiration was  a summons  from  God,  re- 
verberating through  a whole  people,  and 
concentrating  its  power  in  the  exaltation 
and  agony  of  a single  soul. 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


i. 

Enthusiasm  is  a sacred  flame.  We  do  not 
analyze  it  : we  are  dazzled,  rapt,  and  silent  be- 
fore it.  When  this  passion  takes  possession  of 
a nation,  women  feel  it  in  a higher  degree  than 
men.  As  they  are  by  their  nature  more 
sensitive,  more  impressible,  more  loving,  they 
identify  themselves  more  fully  through  their 
imagination  and  their  affections  with  their 
country  : her  image  is  incorporated  with  that 
of  their  mothers,  their  husbands,  their  children, 
their  homes,  their  sepulchres,  their  temples,  and 
their  gods. 

n. 

At  the  period  when  Joan  arises  to  save  her 
country,  France,  torn  by  intestine  factions,  a 
prey  to  the  ambition  of  those  who  seek  only 


6 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


their  own  aggrandizement,  is  France  no  more. 
A large  portion  of  her  territory  is  in  the 
hands  of  the  English,  and  the  whole  nation 
abandoned  to  the  horrors  of  a civil  war.  Her 
king,  Charles  VIL,  a weak  and  unprincipled 
monarch,  looks  in  vain  for  his  subjects  ; the 
people,  for  their  king. 

The  sufferings  of  the  nobility,  and  even  of 
the  citizens,  were  nothing  in  comparison  to 
those  of  the  peasants,  who,  always  oppressed, 
even  in  the  most  prosperous  times,  are  no 
longer  under  the  hand  of  a single  master,  but 
crushed  beneath  the  heel  of  a thousand  tyran- 
nical mercenaries.  Dismayed,  down-trodden, 
they  are  plunged  into  that  bottomless  pit,  where 
humanity  sinks  into  the  horrors  of  desolation. 
Into  this  gulf  descended  the  pure  ray  of  the 
divine  ideal,  carrying  with  it  life  and  salvation. 
From  the  profound  of  this  hell  arose  the  deliv- 
erer, and  that  deliverer  a woman. 

From  among  the  country  people,  who  are 
more  susceptible  of  the  wild  transports  of  reli- 
gious enthusiasm,  arose  Joan  of  Arc.  The 
women  were  sunk  to  a more  degraded  condi- 
tion than  the  men.  They  were  abandoned  to 
all  the  outrages,  all  the  insolent  ferocity,  of 
brute  force  during  those  frightful  wars  which 
drove  humanity  back  to  its  primitive  barbarism. 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


7 


By  a sublime  expiation,  a virgin,  clad  in  that 
living  armor  with  which  the  poets  of  India 
invest  their  celestial  warriors,  was  now  to  break 
in  pieces  the  sword  of  the  oppressor. 

This  condition  of  the  people  presaged  and 
prepared  the  way  for  the  events  which  followed. 
Plunged  into  the  abyss  of  despair,  they  had 
abandoned  all  hope  of  human  succor  ; but  the 
sentiment  of  an  indestructible  nationality  sur- 
vived. Expecting  nothing  from  man,  the 
“trampled  millions’  smothered  cry”  went  up 
to  God.  A burning  religious  enthusiasm  pre- 
vailed, and  the  tradition  that  salvation  would 
come  through  a woman  gained  ground  from 
day  to  day.  Everywhere  reigned  that  in- 
tense expectation  which  foreshadows  a great 
event. 

Such  was  the  state  of  the  nation  when  Provi- 
dence wrought  out  the  redemption  of  France 
through  the  instrumentality  of  a child. 


m. 

1st  the’ village  of  Domrémy,  in  Upper  Lor- 
raine, not  far  from  the  little  town  of  Vaucou- 
leurs,  resided  a family  whose  name  was  D ’Arc. 
The  father  was  a husbandman  ; and,  if  we  may 


8 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


judge  from  the  manners  and  domestic  habits 
of  this  family,  they  enjoyed  the  comforts  and 
the  leisure  which  competence  affords.  The 
father’s  name  was  Jacques  ; the  mother’s,  Isa- 
belle Romée.  There  were  two  sons,  Jacques 
and  Pierre  ; and  a daughter,  younger  than  her 
brothers,  who  was  called  Joan  ; although  her 
godmother  had  likewise  given  her  the  name  of 
Sibyl.  She  used  to  play  and  wander  about  in 
the  adjoining  forests  with  the  little  girls  of  the 
village.  Her  mother  did  not  know  how  to 
read,  and  consequently  could  not  teach  Joan  ; 
but  she  conversed  with  her  on  subjects  calcu- 
lated to  imbue  her  mind  with  religious  senti- 
ments. She  taught  her  to  sew  ; and  so  great 
was  her  skill  in  this  department,  that  no  matron 
in  Rouen  excelled  her.  She  also  learned  how 
to  spin  hemp  and  wool. 

“ No  girl  of  her  age  and  condition,”  said  one 
of  her  companions  interrogated  concerning  her 
childhood,  “ was  more  loved  in  the  house  of 
her  parents.  How  many  times  have  I been  to 
her  home  ! Joan  was  a sweet  and  simple  girl  : 
she  loved  to  attend  church,  and  to  go  on  holy 
pilgrimages  ; she  busied  herself  about  the 
house  like  other  girls  ; she  went  often  to  con- 
fession ; she  blushed  when  she  was  laughed  at 
about  her  piety,  and  her  going  too  often  to  pray 


JOAN  OF  ABC. 


9 


in  the  sanctuary.  She  loved  to  take  care  of 
the  sick  children  in  the  surrounding  cottages.” 
A poor  laborer  told  her  judges  that  he  remem- 
bered her  watching  by  him  when  he  was  a 
child. 

IV. 

The  pensive  beauty  of  Joan  attracted  the 
admiration  of  the  youth  of  the  village,  while 
her  modesty  forbade  all  approach  to  familiarity. 
Several,  however,  charmed  by  her  loveliness 
and  gentle  demeanor,  asked  her  of  her  parents 
in  marriage.  She  steadily  rejected  every  offer, 
feeling,  by  some  presentiment  perhaps,  that 
she  was' appointed  to  give  birth  one  day,  not  to 
children,  but  to  a nation.  One  of  her  lovers, 
bolder  than  the  rest,  presumed  to  claim  her 
hand,  swearing  in  court  that  she  had  promised 
to  be  his  wife.  The  poor  girl,  abashed,  but 
indignant,  when  summoned  to  appear  at  Toul 
on  the  charge  of  breach  of  faith,  protested  that 
the  accusation  was  false  ; and  the  judges,  being 
convinced  of  her  innocence,  acquitted  her,  and 
sent  her  home. 


10 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


V. 

Whilst  her  beauty  delighted  every  eye,  the 
thoughtfulness  of  her  countenance,  the  solitude 
and  silence  of  her  life,  astonished  her  parents 
and  her  brothers.  Nothing  of  the  languor  of 
ripening  womanhood  betrayed  her  sex  ; while 
she  possessed  all  its  delicacy  and  its  attrac- 
tions. Neither  nature,  nor  the  passion  of  love, 
asserted  itself  in  her.  Her  soul,  dwelling  apart, 
seemed  rather  to  meditate  than  feel  ; yet  pitiful 
and  tender,  with  a pity  and  tenderness  embra- 
cing something  grander  and  more  distant  than 
her  own  horizon.  She  prayed  without  ceasing, 
said  little,  and  shunned  company  of  her  own 
age.  When  sewing,  she  generally  retired  to  a 
little  enclosure  under  the  hedge  behind  the 
house,  whence  she  could  see  only  the  sky,  the 
tower  of  the  church,  and  the  distant  mountains. 
There  she  seemed  to  hear  within  herself  those 
voices  which  external  noises  might  have  si- 
lenced. 

She  was  but  eight  years  old  when  already  all 
these  signs  of  inspiration  were  manifest  in  her. 
She  seemed,  like  the  ancient  sibyls,  marked  from 
infancy  with  the  fatal  seal  of  sadness,  of  beauty, 
and  of  isolation  among  the  daughters  of  men. 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


11 


She  loved  every  thing  that  suffered,  — the  birds 
and  the  animals,  which  she  regarded  as  endowed 
with  affections  like  ourselves,  but  ungifted  with 
words  to  express  them.  They  seemed  to  her 
like  beings  condemned  by  God  to  live  with  man 
in  a kind  of  purgatory,  having  perfected  in 
them  only  the  power  to  suffer  and  to  love.  She 
was  attracted  and  spell-bound  by  all  that  was 
sublime  and  melancholy  in  nature.  She  de- 
lighted in  the  chime  of  the  church-bells  ; and,  to 
induce  the  ringer  to  prolong  the  Angelas,  she 
gave  him  skeins  of  woollen  yarn  to  contribute  to 
the  autumn-gathering  for  the  poor. 

But,  above  all,  her  heart  bled  for  the  kingdom 
of  France,  and  for  the  young  dauphin,  without 
mother,  without  country,  and  without  crown. 
The  accounts  she  daily  heard  through  monks, 
soldiers,  pilgrims,  and  mendicants,  — the  cottage 
newsmongers  of  that  age,  — overwhelmed  her 
with  anguish,  and  filled  her  heart  with  compas- 
sion for  her  unfortunate  sovereign.  He  was 
associated  in  her  mind  with  the  calamities  of 
her  country,  and  she  regarded  his  restoration  as 
the  means  of  salvation  for  France. 


12 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


VI. 

She  had  heard  her  voices  for  a long  time  be- 
fore speaking  even  to  her  mother  of  them.  One 
day  at  noon,  when  she  was  alone  in  the  garden, 
under  the  shadow  of  the  church,  she  heard  dis- 
tinctly a voice-  call  her  by  name  : “Joan,  arise  ! 
Go  to  the  succor  of  the  dauphin  ! Restore  to 
him  his  kingdom  of  France  ! ” The  splendor 
that  accompanied  the  command  was  so  celestial, 
the  voice  so  distinct,  and  the  summons  so  impera- 
tive, that  she  fell  on  her  knees,  and  exclaimed, 
“ How  can  I do  this,  since  I am  but  a poor  girl, 
and  knoAV  neither  how  to  ride,  nor  to  lead 
armies?  ” The  voice  was  not  content  with  these 
excuses.  “You  will  go  to  the  Lord  of  Baudri- 
eourt,  the  king’s  captain  at  Vaucouleurs.  He 
will  send  you  under  escort  to  the  dauphin,  hear 
nothing.  St.  Catharine  and  St.  Margaret  will 
protect  you.” 

At  this  first  distinct  intimation  of  the  diffi- 
cult and  dangerous  task  she  was  destined  to  un- 
dertake, she  trembled  and  wept  in  agony  of 
spirit,  but  was  silent.  To  this  divine  communi- 
cation succeeded  visions.  She  saw  St.  Michael 
armed  with  a lance,  clothed  with  light,  as  he 
appeared  in  the  painting  over  the  altar.  The 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


13 


archangel  pictured  to  her  the  rending-asunder 
and  desolation  of  the  kingdom,  and  demanded 
of  her  its  deliverance.  St.  Margaret  and  St. 
Catharine  also  appeared  to  her,  and  spoke  ten- 
der and  gentle  words  : crowns  encircled  their 
brows,  angels  followed  in  their  train,  all  paradise 
seemed  opened  to  her  view.  Absorbed  in  divine 
communion,  she  forgot  the  peril  and  rigor  of 
her  mission,  and  was  lost  in  holy  contemplation. 
When  the  voices  ceased,  when  the  angelic  forms 
withdrew,  when  heaven  closed,  Joan  found  her- 
self bathed  in  tears.  “ Oh  that  the  angels  had 
taken  me  with  them  ! ” she  cried.  But  her 
mission  was  not  yet  accomplished  : she  was  to 
ascend  to  the  glory  she  yearned  for  from  the 
funeral-pyre  of  the  martyr. 


VII. 

These  conversations  in  which  she  was  sum- 
moned to  her  arduous  task  ; these  spiritual  joys, 
which  strengthened  her  sometimes  wavering 
faith  ; the  agony  which  usually  followed  the  con- 
viction of  the  grand  and  perilous  work  she  was 
called  to  perform,  the  obstacles  interposed,  and 
the  consequent  delay,  — lasted  several  years.  At 
length,  she  communicated  all  that  had  happened 


14 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


to  her  mother,  who  informed  her  father  and 
brothers.  The  rumor  soon  spread  through  the 
country,  a subject  of  wonder  for  the  simple,  of 
doubt  for  the  wise  ; of  sarcasm  for  some,  and 
of  gossip  for  all. 

The  idea  of  a young  girl  leading  armies  to 
battle,  crowning  her  king,  and  delivering  her 
country,  was  to  be  found  in  tradition  as  well  as 
in  the  Bible.  Joan  made  it  the  religion  of  the 
nation.  Her  father,  an  aged  and  austere  man, 
was  greatly  troubled  at  the  reports  of  these 
visions  and  wonders.  He  did  not  think  his 
family  worthy  of  these  dangerous  favors  from 
heaven,  and  of  these  visits  of  angels  and  saints. 
Holding  communication  with  spirits  seemed  to 
him  suspicious,  especially  in  an  age  when  super- 
stition ascribed  to  demons  so  many  events,  and 
when  exorcism  and  the  stake  punished  all  who 
were  suspected  of  intercourse  with  the  invisible 
world.  He  thought  the  melancholy  and  illu- 
sions of  his  child  were  owing  to  physical  causes. 
He  therefore  urged  her  to  marry,  hoping  that 
her  loving  and  devoted  nature  might  find  in  the 
affections  of  a wife  and  mother  something  to 
divert  her  mind  from  the  one  idea  which  seemed 
to  permeate  and  absorb  her.  Sometimes  his 
remonstrances  were  accompanied  by  invective. 
He  declared  he  would  rather  drown  her  with 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


15 


his  own  hands  than  that  she  should  go  into  the 
army. 


VIII. 

Neither  the  menaces  of  her  father,  nor  the 
displeasure  of  her  mother,  to  whom  she  was 
tenderly  attached,  prevented  her  from  seeing 
visions  and  hearing  voices.  Obedient  in  all  else, 
she  earnestly  wished  to  obey  in  this  also  ; but 
her  inspiration  was  too  strong.  Heaven  must 
be  obeyed  before  men.  Her  visions  were  more 
potent  than  the  pleadings  of  nature.  She  suf- 
fered much  from  grieving  those  she  loved,  and, 
like  her  divine  Exemplar,  prayed  that  this  fear- 
ful cup  might  pass  from  her  ; but  in  vain  : like 
Jesus,  too,  she  said,  “ Father,  not  my  will,  but 
thine,  be  done.”  She  trusted,  that,  when  her 
mission  was  accomplished,  she  might  obtain  the 
pardon  of  her  parents  ; and  they  did  pardon 
her  when  her  success  and  her  glory  had  justified 
her  disobedience. 


IX 

A catastrophe  which  desolated  her  village 
helped  to  strengthen  her  intention  of  going  forth 


16 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


on  her  mission.  This  little  hamlet,  situated  at 
a distance  from  the  theatre  of  war,  had  hereto- 
fore suffered  little  ; but  in  1428  it  was  invaded 
by  the  Burgundians,  and  the  inhabitants  of 
Domrémy  had  only  time  to  flee  with  their 
flocks  to  Neufchâtel.  When  the  enemy  had 
departed,  and  the  people  returned,  Joan  saw 
nothing  but  ruin  and  desolation  in  those  places 
she  had  so  loved.  Her  village  had  been  sacked, 
her  church  burnt  to  the  ground.  Was  it  not 
Heaven  which  thus  punished  her  delay? 


X. 

Joan  had  an  uncle  more  simple,  more  tender, 
more  enthusiastic,  than  her  father,  in  whose 
heart  she  first  found  sympathy,  and  faith  in  her 
mission.  These  second  fathers  are  often  more 
truly  paternal  than  the  real  ones  ; perhaps  be- 
cause they  love  from  choice,  and  not  from  duty. 
Such  seems  to  have  been  the  uncle  of  Joan,  — 
the  father  of  her  heart,  her  comforter,  her  con- 
fidant, and,  lastly,  the  agent  appointed  by  God 
to  assist  her. 

To  shield  her  from  the  reproaches  and  dis- 
pleasure of  her  father,  he  took  her  to  his  own 
house  under  pretext  of  needing  her  to  nurse 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


17 


liis  wife.  Joan  profited  by  her  residence  there. 
She  entreated  her  uncle  to  go  to  Vaucouleurs,  a 
fortified  town  in  the  vicinity  of  Domrémy,  to  ob- 
tain the  assistance  of  the  Lord  of  Baudricourt, 
commandant  of  the  city.  Her  uncle,  urged 
also  by  his  wife,  consented.  He  went  to  Vau- 
couleurs, and  delivered  the  message  with  which 
he  was  intrusted.  The  warrior  was  amused. 
He  could  only  smile  at  the  madness  .of  a peasant- 
girl  of  seventeen  undertaking  to  accomplish  for 
the  dauphin  and  the  kingdom  what  thousands 
of  knights,  politicians,  and  soldiers,  had  been 
unable  to  achieve.  “You  have  nothing  to  do,” 
said  Baudricourt  to  the  messenger  of  miracles, 
dismissing  him,  “ but  to  chastise  your  niece  well, 
and  send  her  home.” 

The  uncle  returned,  discouraged  by  the  incre- 
dulity of  Baudricourt,  and  resolved  to  persuade 
his  wife  and  niece  of  their  delusion  ; but  Joan 
had  such  power  over  him,  and  conviction  made 
her  so  eloquent,  that  she  soon  revived  his  faith, 
and  even  induced  him  to  take  her,  unknown  to 
her  parents,  to  Vaucouleurs.  She  felt  that  this 
was  the  decisive  step  ; that,  if  once  she  left  the 
village,  she  would  never  return.  She  confided 
her  intention  to  a young  girl  whom  she  tenderly 
loved,  named  Mangète.  They  prayed  together  ; 
and,  at  parting,  Joan  commended  her  to  God. 


18 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


But  she  concealed  her  departure  from  one  whom 
she  loved  still  more,  named  Hauniette  ; “ fear- 
ing,” she  said  afterwards,  “ that  she  could  not 
master  her  grief  at  leaving  her  if  she  bade  her 
good-by.”  She  wept  much  in  secret,  and  at 
last  conquered  her  tears. 


XI. 

Habited  in  a red  dress,  such  as  was  usually 
worn  'by  peasant-girls,  Joan  set  out  on  foot 
with  her  uncle.  On  arriving  at  Yaucouleurs, 
she  was  hospitably  received  by  the  wife  of  a 
wheelwright,  a cousin  of  her  mother.  Baudri- 
court,  overcome  by  the  entreaties  of  the  uncle 
and  the  perseverance  of  the  niece,  consented  to 
receive  her,  — not  through  faith  in  her  mission, 
but  to  rid  himself  of  their  importunity.  He 
was  moved  by  the  beauty  of  the  young  peas- 
ant, whom  her  chevalier,  Daulon,  described, 
about  this  time,  as  “ a young  girl,  beautiful  and 
well-formed,  modestly  revealing  all  womanly 
graces.”  Baudricourt  having  questioned  her, 
Joan  answered,  “ I come  to  you  in  the  name  of 
God,  my  lord,  to  tell  you  to  send  word  to  the 
dauphin  to  remain  where  he  is,  and  not  give 
battle  to  the  enemy  at  this  time,  because  God 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


19 


will  send  him  succor  by  the  middle  of  Lent. 
The  kingdom,”  added  she,  “ does  not  belong  to 
him,  but  to  God,  his  Lord.  Yet  God  wills  that 
he  shall  reign.  Notwithstanding  all  his  ene- 
mies, he  shall  be  king  ; and  it  is  I who  shall 
lead  him  to  be  crowned  at  Rheims.” 

Baudricourt  dismissed  her,  undecided  what 
course  to  pursue.  Deeply  impressed  by  her 
message,  he  dared  not  reject  her  when  the 
kingdom  was  trembling  on  the  verge  of  ruin, 
and  incredulity  might  be  imputed  to  him  as  a 
crime.  He  prudently  referred  the  matter  to  the 
clergy,  the  right  tribunal,  he  said,  to  judge  of 
supernatural  cases.  He  also  consulted  the  cu- 
rate of  Yaucouleurs,  who  went  with  him  to  visit 
Joan.  The  curate,  that  his  presence  might  be 
more  impressive,  put  on  his  priestly  garments,  — 
his  armor  against  the  Tempter.  He  assumed  an 
air  of  great  solemnity,  exorcised  the  evil  spirits, 
and  warned  her  to  withdraw  her  claims  if  she 
were  in  communion  with  Satan.  But  the  only 
spirits  that  possessed  Joan  were  piety  and  pa- 
triotism. She  underwent  the  priestly  ordeal 
without  giving  offence  either  to  the  curate  or 
the  warrior.  They  left  her,  deeply  interested, 
but  perplexed.  , 


20 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


XII. 

This  visit  astonished  the  little  town.  People 
of  every  condition,  especially  women,  hastened 
to  the  house.  The  mission  of  Joan  was  believed 
in  by  some,  and  talked  about  by  all.  It  was 
no  longer  possible  for  Baudricourt  to  check  the 
prevailing  excitement.  Already  he  heard  him- 
self accused  of  cowardice  or  indifference.  “ To 
reject  such  assistance  from  Heaven,  was  it  not 
treachery  to  France  and  the  dauphin?”  A 
nobleman,  who,  among  many  others,  had  come 
to  see  Joan,  indignant  at  Baudricourt,  said  to 
her,  “Well,  my  girl,  then  the  king  must  be 
driven  away,  and  we  must  all  become  English.” 
His  complaints  were  echoed  by  the  people. 
Joan  complained  too,  not  for  her  own  sake, 
but  for  the  sake  of  France.  Yet,  relying  on 
the  promise  which  she  had  had  from  on  high, 
she  said,  “ Whatever  betide,  I will  see  the 
dauphin  before  mid-Lent,  even  if  I have  to 
make  the  journey  on  my  knees.  No  one, 
whether  king,  duke,  or  daughter  of  the  King  of 
Scotland,  can  wrest  the  kingdom  from  God. 
He  will  deliver  it  by  my  hand.  Yet,”  she  add- 
ed with  sadness,  “ I had  rather  sit  beside  my 
mother,  and  spin.  I know  that  fighting  is  not 


Joan  of  arc. 


21 


my  work  : but  I must  do  as  I am  commanded  ; 
for  my  Lord  wills  it.”  — “Who,  then,  is  your 
Lord?”  they  asked.  “It  is  God,”  she  said. 

Two  knights  who  were  pi’esent,  one  young, 
the  other  old,  were  deeply  moved.  They  swore, 
their  hands  clasped  in  hers,  that,  by  the  help 
of  God,  they  would  take  her  to  the  king. 


XIII. 

The  inhabitants  of  Yaucouleurs  purchased  a 
horse  for  Joan,  and  a military  suit,  not  only  as 
a badge  of  her  warlike  mission,  but  to  protect 
her  from  insult.  Baudricourt  gave  her  a sword. 
The  report  of  her  departure  for  the  army  hav- 
ing reached  Domrémy,  her  father,  her  mother, 
and  her  brothers,  hastened  to  Yaucouleurs,  and 
insisted  on  taking  her  home.  She  wept  with 
them  ; but  tears,  though  they  melted  her  heart, 
could  not  shake  her  resolution. 

She  set  out,  accompanied  by  the  two  knights 
and  several  horsemen,  for  Chinon,  where  the 
dauphin  then  resided.  Her  escort  traversed 
rapidly  the  provinces  held  by  the  English  and 
Burgundians,  lest  their  precious  trust  should  be 
captured.  The  soldiers,  uncertain  at  first  as  to 
the  nature  of  her  inspiration,  at  times  wor- 


22 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


shipped  her  as  a saint,  and  again  shunned  her 
as  a sorceress.  Some  of  them  even  confei'red 
together  as  to  whether  they  should  not  rid 
themselves  of  her  by  casting  her  into  some 
mountain  torrent,  and  then  pretending  that  she 
had  been  carried  off  by  the  Devil.  But  often, 
when  on  the  point  of  executing  their  plot,  they 
were  restrained  by  a power  they  dared  not  defy. 
The  youth,  the  beauty,  and  the  holy  innocence, 
of  Joan,  were  doubtless  the  charm  which  arrest- 
ed their  hands.  Incredulous  at  starting,  they 
arrived  convinced. 


XIV. 

The  dauphin  had  been  informed  by  letter  of 
all  that  had  happened  in  Lorraine.  The  wan- 
dering court,  now  at  the  château  of  Chinon, 
near  Tours,  awaited  the  arrival  of  the  inspired 
girl  with  various  emotions.  The  chief  counsel- 
lors of  the  dauphin  advised  him  not  to  listen 
to  a child,  who,  if  not  an  instrument  of  the 
Prince  of  Darkness,  was  certainly  the  victim  of 
her  own  delusion.  Others,  more  credulous, 
urged  him  to  consult  this  oracle.  The  Queen 
Yolande,  mother-in-law  of  the  dauphin,  and  the 
ladies  of  the  court,  were  proud  to  think  that 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


23 


France  might  owe  her  safety  to  a woman.  They 
felt  that  all  human  means  had  failed,  and  that  a 
miracle,  real  or  imagined,  could  alone  restore 
confidence  to  the  people,  and  enthusiasm  to  the 
army.  “Perhaps  it  was  God  who  brought  this 
help.”  Statesmanship  or  craft  were  alike  good 
in  a desperate  cause.  The  dauphin,  hesitating 
between  the  grave  advice  of  his  counsel  and  the 
earnest  solicitations  of  the  women,  found  him- 
self greatly  perplexed.  He  was  driven  to  rely 
upon  any  thing,  because  he  had  nothing  to  hope. 


XV. 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  when  Joan  ar- 
rived at  Chinon.  She  was  entertained  in  the 
neighborhood,  at  the  castle  of  the  Lord  of 
Gaucourt.  Visited  by  the  lords  and  ladies  of 
the  court,  her  simplicity  won  the  hearts  of  the 
latter,  while  it  interested  and  edified  the  former. 
The  knights  who  held  Orleans  for  the  king  had 
too  much  need  of  a miracle  to  question  her 
mission.  They  accordingly  despatched  several 
of  their  number  to  plead  the  cause  of  their 
future  liberator.  The  dauphin  consented,  at 
length,  to  receive  her  ; but  he  determined,  be- 
fore giving  credence  to  her  claim,  to  test  the 


24 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


truth  of  her  inspiration.  The  humble  peasant- 
girl,  in  her  shepherdess  costume,  was  introduced 
to  the  court,  composed  of  military  men,  of  coun- 
sellors, of  courtiers,  and  of  queens.  The  dau- 
phin, dressed  with  affected  simplicity,  mingled 
in  the  groups  of  richly-attired  noblemen  ; thus 
leaving  the  young  girl  in  doubt  as  to  who  was 
her  sovereign.  “ If  she  be  truly  sent  of  God,” 
thought  he,  “ he  will  lead  her  to  the  only  one 
who  has  royal  blood  in  his  veins.  If  Satan 
sent  her,  she  will  be  deceived  by  appearances.” 

Joan  advanced  confused,  dazzled,  and  hesitat- 
ing. Among  the  crowd,  she  sought  with  timid 
glance  the  one  to  whom  she  had  been  sent. 
She  recognized  him  without  questioning  any 
one,  and,  modestly  approaching  him,  fell  upon 
her  knees.  “ It  is  not  I who  am  the  king,” 
said  the  dauphin,  pointing  to  one  of  his  cour- 
tiers : “ there  is  the  king.”  But  Joan  replied 
with  great  earnestness,  “ By  my  God,  gracious 
prince,  you  are  the  king,  and  none  other.” 
Then  in  a solemn  voice  she  added,  “ Most  noble 
lord,  the  King  of  kings  declares  through  me 
that  you  shall  be  consecrated  and  crowned,  in 
the  city  of  Rheims,  his  vicegerent  over  the  king- 
dom of  France.” 

At  these  words  the  whole  court  were  struck 
with  awe.  The  dauphin  himself  was  deeply 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


25 


moved  : but  be  wished  still  further  evidence  ; 
and,  leading  her  aside  into  the  embrasure  of  a 
window,  he  conversed  with  her  in  a low  voice 
respecting  a matter  which  troubled  his  con- 
science, and  made  him  doubt  his  right  to  the 
throne.  He  had  never  mentioned  the  subject  to 
any  one.  It  was. of  a kind  to  make  his  mother 
blush,  and  rob  him  of  the  crown.  The  life  led 
by  Isabeau  of  Bavaria  made  it  uncertain  whether 
the  dauphin  were  really  the  son  of  Charles  YI. 
The  inspired  answer  of  Joan  was  inaudible  to 
the  bystanders  ; but  they  saw,  by  the  counte- 
nance of  the  dauphin,  the  pleasure  and  relief 
that  it  gave  him.  Often,  and  very  recently 
too,  would  he  shut  himself  in  his  oratory, 
and  pray  God,  with  tears,  to  reveal  to  him  in 
some  way  whether  he  was  indeed  the  heir  to 
the  kingdom  : if  so,  to  restore  to  him  his  in- 
heritance ; if  not,  to  grant  him  a safe  asylum 
among  the  Spaniards  or  the  Scots,  his  only 
friends.  “ I tell  thee  from  God,”  insisted  Joan, 
raising  her  voice,  and  saluting  him,  “ that  thou 
art  the  true  son  of  the  king,  and  the  rightful 
heir.” 


26 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


XVI. 

This  conversation  with  the  king  ; the  favor  of 
the  princesses  ; the  entreaties  of  the  knights 
from  Orleans  ; the  clamor  of  the  people,  ever 
ready  to  put  faith  in  the  marvellous  rather  than 
the  possible  ; and,  lastly,  the  calculating  policy 
which  encouraged  a conviction  so  advantageous 
to  its  designs,  — all  these  causes  created  round 
the  stranger  a respect  and  devotion  which  made 
the  least  doubt  a crime.  The  bastard  of  Or- 
leans, the  famous  Dunois,  called  her  by  re- 
peated messengers  to  Orleans,  that  her  presence 
might  re-animate  his  troops.  On  hearing  her 
story,  the  Duke  of  Alençon,  a chivalrous  and 
courteous  prince,  hastened  to  her,  and  embraced 
her  cause  with  all  the  warmth  of  youth  and 
enthusiasm.  The  courtiers  crowded  round  her 
at  the  Castle  of  Coudray.  Some  presented  her 
with  superb  war-horses  ; others  taught  her  how 
to  keep  herself  in  the  saddle,  how  to  manage 
her  steed,  how  to  break  a lance.  All  were 
charmed  with  the  courage,  strength,  and  grace 
which  she  showed  in  these  martial  exercises. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  soul  of  a hero  had  trans- 
fused itself  into  this  maid  of  seventeen,  inspir- 
ing her  with  a passion  for  arms. 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


27 


The  dauphin,  however,  still  hesitated  to 
declare  his  full  belief  in  the  inspiration  of  Joan, 
deterred  by  his  chancellor,  who  feared  the 
derision  of  the  English  if  France  intrusted  her 
sword  to  a hand  used  only  to  the  distaff.  The 
chancellor  also  feared  the  clergy,  who  might 
ascribe  her  inspiration  to  witchcraft.  The 
king  therefore  thought  it  expedient  to  send  her 
to  Poitiers,  that  she  might  be  examined  by  the 
university  and  the  parliament.  These  two 
oracles  of  the  times,  having  been  driven  from 
Paris,  now  held  their  sessions  in  that  city.  “ I 
see,”  said  Joan,  “ that  a severe  trial  awaits 
me  at  Poitiers  : but  God  will  sustain  me  ; my 
trust  is  in  him.” 


XVII. 

Questioned  by  the  doctors  with  kindness,  but 
with  great  care,  she  confounded  them  all  by 
her  faith  in  herself,  as  well  as  by  her  patience 
and  sweetness.  One  of  them  said  to  her,  “But, 
if  God  has  resolved  to  save  France,  he  does  not 
need  soldiers.”  — “Ah!  my  God,”  she  replied, 
“ the  soldiers  will  fight,  and  God  will  give  the 
victory.”  Another  remarked,  “ If  you  give 
no  other  evidence  of  the  truth  of  your  revela- 
tions, the  king  can  never  intrust  you  with  an 


28 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


army.”  — “By  my  God  ! ” replied  Joan,  “ it  is 
not  to  Poitiers  I have  been  sent  to  give  signs  : 
take  me  to  Orleans  with  as  few  soldiers  as  you 
please.  The  sign  I am  to  give  is  the  rais- 
ing of  the  siege.”  When  the  doctors  cited 
texts  which  forbade  them  to  believe  lightly  in 
such  revelations,  “ That  is  true,”  she  answered  ; 
“ but  there  are  more  things  written  in  the  book 
of  God  than  in  those  of  men.” 

At  length  the  bishops  declared  that  nothing 
was  impossible  to  God  ; that  the  Bible  was  full 
of  mysteries,  and  of  examples  which  might 
authorize  a humble  girl  to  fight  in  the  armor  of 
a man  for  the  deliverance  of  her  -country.  The 
Queen  Yolande  of  Sicily,  mother-in-law  of  the 
dauphin,  and  the  most  honored  ladies  of  the 
court,  testified  to  the  pure  life  and  chastity  of 
the  prophetess.  The  dauphin  doubted  no 
longer.  He  confided  to  her  the  army,  which, 
under  the  Duke  of  Alençon,  her  most  zealous 
friend,  was  destined  for  the  relief  of  Orleans. 


XVIII. 

A suit  of  light  armor  was  procured  for  her, 
perfectly  white,  in  token  of  her  purity.  She 
demanded  a long  rusty  sword,  marked  with  five 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


29 


crosses,  which,  as  she  foretold,  was  found  hid- 
den away  in  the  chapel  of  a church  near  Chinon. 
They  placed  in  her  hand  a standard,  also  white, 
sprinkled  with  fleurs  de  lis,  the  heraldic  flower 
of  France.  Thus  she  set  forth,  accompanied, 
by  an  old  and  brave  knight,  her  protector, 
named  Daulon  ; by  two  children,  her  pages  ; 
two  heralds-at-arms  ; a chaplain  ; many  attend- 
ants ; and  by  a crowd  of  people,  who  blessed 
her  beforehand  for  the  miracles  she  was  to 
work,  and  the  salvation  she  was  to  bring. 

She  was  triumphantly  received  at  Blois  by 
the  chief  ofBcers  of  the  army,  assembled  to 
welcome  her,  and  to  follow  her  divine  instruc- 
tions, — the  Marshal  of  Boussac,  Dunois,  Lahire, 
Saintrailles,  and  Bahdricourt,  recently  arrived 
from  Vaucouleurs  ; all  directed  by  the  chancel- 
lor to  respect  in  this  girl  the  will  of  God  and 
the  king;  But  the  passionate  enthusiasm  of 
the  people  for  the  Virgin  of  Domrémy  was  far 
more  to  the  army  than  the  orders  of  the  dau- 
phin. The  servant  of  God  as  well  as  of  the 
throne,  Joan  began  by  reforming  the  morals 
of  the  army.  Cards,  dice,  all  implements  of 
sorcery,  both  in  the  camp  and  in  the  city,  were 
cast  into  the  flames.  Popular  preachers  fol- 
lowed in  her  footsteps,  exhorting  the  women 
and  the  soldiers.  One  of  them  was  so  carried 


30 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


away  by  his  fanaticism,  and  so  stirred  up  the 
people,  rather  as  a tribune  than  a priest,  that 
the  pope  had  him  seized  by  the  Inquisition,  and 
burned  alive,  as  a propagator  of  heresy.  An- 
other, called  Friar  Richard,  drew  such  multi- 
tudes, that  thousands  of  men  and  children  lay 
on  the  bare  ground  around  the  platform  the 
night  preceding  his  exhortations.  The  spirit 
of  God  breathed  on  men’s  souls  like  a tempest. 
Religion,  patriotism,  war,  fired  the  masses. 
The  humble  Joan  followed  the  preachers  on 
foot  through  the  streets  of  Blois  ; but  her  hu- 
mility served  only  to  inflame  enthusiasm. 
Friar  Richard  envied  her  while  pretending  to 
share  the  fanaticism  of  the  army.  Already 
the  course  of  events  and  the  passions  of  men 
had  prepared  the  way  for  miracles,  for  hatred 
even,  and,  after  victory,  for  martyrdom. 

The  army,  purified  by  the  discipline  intro- 
duced by  Joan,  was  quickly  filled  by  recruits 
hastening  from  every  part  of  the  kingdom  at 
news  of  these  prodigies.  The  standard  of  the 
Virgin  of  Domrémy  was  indeed  the  oriflamme 
of  France. 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


31 


XIX. 

The  chiefs,  urged  to  profit  by  this  enthusi- 
asm, set  their  troops  in  motion.  Joan,  whom 
they  consulted,  wished  that,  without  any  refer- 
ence to  the  numbers  or  situation  of  the  English, 
they  should  march  straight  to  Orleans  along 
the  northern  bank  of  the  river.  The  generals 
pretended  to  consent  ; but  they  deceived  her, 
not  being  willing  to  expose  the  army  to  the 
danger  they  apprehended  by  following  this 
advice.  Having  crossed  to  the  southern  bank 
of  the  Loire,  thus  placing  the  river  between 
themselves  and  the  enemy,  they  advanced 
through  the  woods  and  marshes  of  Sologne. 
The  chaplain  of  Joan  rode  at  the  head  of  the 
army,  bearing  her  banner,  and  singing  hymns. 
The  march  seemed  a religious  procession,  head- 
ed by  the  priest. 

On  the  third  day,  Joan  arrived  before  Or- 
leans. When  she  discovered  that  the  river  lay 
between  herself  and  the  enemy,  she  was  indig- 
nant at  the  deception  practised  upon  her,  but 
still  advised  an  immediate  attack  upon  the  for- 
tifications of  the  English  which  surrounded  the 
city.  But  they  restrained  her  ardor. 

Dunois.  who  had  the  chief  command  both 


32 


JOAN  OF  ARC, 


of  the  army  of  succor  and  of  the  army  within 
the  city,  leaped  into  a frail  boat  as  soon  as  he 
saw  the  maid  from  the  ramparts.  “ Are  you 
the  Bastard  of  Orleans  ? ” she  said,  as  he  reached 
the  shore  at  the  feet  of  her  horse.  “ Yes,” 
answered  Dunois  ; “ and  I am  rejoiced  at  your 
coming.”  But,  in  a voice  of  sweet  reproach,  she 
said,  “ Was  it,  then,  by  your  advice  that  we 
came  by  way  of  Sologne?”  — “Such  was  the 
advice  of  the  oldest  and  wisest  captains,”  said 
Dunois.  “ My  lord,”  replied  Joan,  “ the 
counsel  of  God  is  wiser  than  the  counsel  of 
men.  You  intended  to  deceive  me  : you  have 
deceived  yourself.  Fear  nothing.  God  has 
appointed  my  path.  For  this  was  I born.  I 
bring  you  the  best  help  that  ever  knight  or  city 
received,  — the  help  of  God.” 

At  this  moment,  the  wind,  which  had  been 
blowing  up  stream,  and  thus  prevented  the 
landing  of  the  boats  laden  with  food,  and  muni- 
tions of  war,  suddenly  changed  as  if  by  mira- 
cle, and  the  city  was  provisioned  in  the  face  of 
the  English. 

The  next  day,  having  dismissed  the  army  of 
the  king,  which  had  come  only  to  escort  the 
convoy  to  the  gates,  and  was  needed  for  the  de- 
fence of  the  surrounding  country,  Joan  entered 
Orleans  at  the  head  of  only  two  hundred  lances, 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


33 


followed  by  the  brave  chevaliers  Laliire  and 
Danois.  Mounted  on  a white  charger,  carry- 
ing her  standai’d  in  her  right  hand,  and  clad  in 
her  light  armor,  which  shone  in  the  sunlight, 
she  seemed,  alike  to  the  people  and  to  the  sol- 
diers, the  angel  of  war  and  of  peace.  The 
priests,  the  people,  the  women,  the  children, 
threw  themselves  under  her  horse’s  feet,  only  to 
touch  her  spurs,  thinking  that  some  divine  vir- 
tue emanated  from  this  envoy  of  God.  She 
had  herself  conducted  to  the  cathedral,  where 
they  sang  the  Te  Deurn  of  praise  for  the  succor 
she  brought.  But  the  aid  which  encouraged 
the  people  most  was  the  supernatural  aid 
which  they  believed  they  saw  and  possessed 
in  the  prophetess. 

Joan  was  conducted  from  the  church  to  the 
house  of  the  woman  of  fairest  fame  in  the  city, 
that  her  name  might  remain  untarnished,  even 
by  suspicion,  in  the  midst  of  a camp.  A feast 
had  been  prepared  for  her  ; but  she  partook 
only  of  a little  bread  and  wine  in  humility,  and 
in  remembrance  of  the  frugal  board  of  her 
father. 

a 


34 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


XX. 

Then  she  dictated  a letter  to  the  English, 
which  sounds  like  the  challenges  hurled  at  each 
other  by  the  heroes  of  Homer  on  the  field  of 
battle. 

“ King  of  England,”  she  said,  “ and  you, 
Duke  of  Bedford,  who  call  yourself  Regent  of 
France,  and  you,  William,  Count  of  Suffolk, 
John  Talbot,  and  you,  Thomas  Scales,  who 
claim  to  be  lieutenant  of  the  Duke  of  Bedford, 
obey  the  King  of  Heaven  : surrender  the  keys 
of  the  kingdom  to  the  virgin  sent  of  God. 
And  you,  archers  and  men  at  arms  before  Or- 
leans, in  the  name  of  God  return  to  your  coun- 
try. King  of  England,  I am,  by  the  will  of 
God,  commander  of  the  French  ; and,  wherever 
I meet  you,  I shall  make  war  upon  you.  Be- 
lieve me,  the  King  of  Heaven  will  give  more 
power  to  me  than  you  can  bring  against  me  in 
all  your  assaults.”  She  invited  them  to  enter 
upon  negotiations  for  peace,  promising  them 
safe  conduct  and  an  honorable  reception  if  they 
would  come  to  Orleans. 

Laughter,  derision,  and  cynical  railings,  were 
the  only  response  to  this  letter  of  Joan.  They 
called  her  a harlot,  and  a keeper  of  kine.  In 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


35 


defiance  of  the  laws  of  war,  they  detained  her 
herald-at-arms  a prisoner.  She  sent  a second 
message  to  Talbot,  offering  him  battle  under  the 
ramparts  of  the  city.  “ If  I am  conquered,” 
said  she,  “ you  will  have  me  burned  alive  ; if 
I am  victorious,  you  will  raise  thé  siege.” 
Talbot  replied  only  by  disdainful  silence.  He 
felt  himself  insulted  by  this  challenge  from  a 
child  and  a girl. 


XXI. 

Joan,  called  to  a council  of  the  generals, 
through  respect  to  the  wishes  of  the  king  and  the 
sentiments  of  the  people,  expressed  the  same 
impatience  to  fight,  the  same  unswerving  confi- 
dence in  the  power  that  had  been  conferred  upon 
her.  Dunois  yielded  to  her  in  every  thing, 
sometimes  even  contrary  to  his  own  judgment, 
knowing  that,  by  so  doing,  he  satisfied  the  people, 
and  inflamed  the  courage  of  the  soldiers.  As 
politic  as  he  was  brave,  the  bastard,  if  he  did 
not  give  full  credence  to  her  revelations,  had 
faith  in  the  enthusiasm  which  they  kindled. 
The  irreproachable  conduct,  the  sublime  faith, 
the  wonderful  power,  of  Joan,  exerted  an  irre- 
sistible influence  over  him.  They  understood 
each  other  well  ; he  enlightening  her  by  his  ad- 


i 


36 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


vice  in  counsel,  she  inspiring  him  by  her  hero- 
ism in  action. 

The  Lord  of  Gamaches,  an  old  soldier,  wit- 
nessing the  deference  paid  by  Dunois  and  La- 
hire  to  the  opinions  of  this  girl,  was  indignant 
from  the  first  that  the  revelations  of  a peasant 
should  be  preferred  to  the  advice  of  an  experi- 
enced general  like  himself.  “ Since  they  will 
listen,”  he  exclaimed,  “ to  an  adventurer  of  low 
birth  in  preference  to  a knight  like  me,  I shall 
say  no  more.  My  sword  shall  speak  for  me. 
I may  perish  ; hut  honor,  as  well  as  the  interest 
of  the  king,  forbids  me  to  sanction  such  folly.  I 
surrender  my  banner  : henceforth  I shall  be  a 
simple  squire.  I would  rather  have  for  my 
chief  a noble  knight  than  a girl  who  has  been 
I know  not  what.”  Then,  folding  his  banner,  he 
returned  it  to  Dunois. 

Joan  breathed  nothing  but  war  ; and  every 
delay  in  the  deliverance  of  her  country  seemed 
to  her  a distrust  of  the  divine  word,  and  an 
offence  against  God.  The  day  after  her  arrival, 
she  mounted  her  horse  to  escort  a detachment 
which  was  going  to  Blois  for  re-enforcements. 
On  her  return,  she  rode  alone  towards  one  of  the 
forts  with  which  the  English  had  girded  the 
city  ; and,  raising  her  voice  that  they  might  hear, 
she  summoned  them  to  evacuate  their  strong:- 
holds. 


JOAN  OF  AFC. 


37 


Two  English  knights,  Granville  and  Glads- 
dale,  as  famous  for  their  courage  as  for  their 
cruelty  to  the  people  of  Orleans,  answered  her 
with  insult  and  scorn,  ordering  her  to  return  to 
her  distaff  and  her  flocks.  “ Soon  you  will  be 
defeated,”  said  Joan  ; “many  of  your  soldiers 
will  be  killed  ; your  army  will  be  routed  : but 
you  yourselves  will  not  live  to  witness  it.” 
Thus  she  foretold  their  defeat  and  their  death. 


XXII. 

The  second  re-enforcement,  headed  by  Dunois, 
entered  the  city  without  molestation. 

Dunois  went  to  thank  Joan  for  her  good  ad- 
vice, informing  her  at  the  same  time  of  the 
approach  of  an  English  army  which  would 
complete  the  investment  of  the  city.  “Bastard, 
bastard  ! ” she  exclaimed,  “ I warn  you  to  no- 
tify me  the  moment  the  army  appears  ; for,” 
added  she  gayly,  “if  I do  not  give  them  battle, 
you  shall  lose  your  head.”  Dunois  promised 
to  let  her  know. 

A few  days  later,,  as  she  was  lying  down  at 
noon  to  rest,  having  been  busily  engaged  in 
enforcing  the  discipline  she  had  established 
in  the  army,  a supernatural  impression  pre- 


38 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


vented  her  sleeping.  Suddenly  springing  to 
her  feet,  she  called  her  squire,  the  old  Lord  of 
Daulon,  crying  eagerly,  “Arm  me,  arm  me! 
I am  commanded  to  attack  the  enemy  ; but 
whether  in  their  trenches,  or  in  the  open  field, 
I do  not  know.”  Whilst  the  chevalier  was 
putting  on  her  armor,  a great  uproar  was  heard 
in  the  streets,  the  people  shouting,  “ The  Eng- 
lish are  murdering  the  guards  at  the  gates  ! ” 
“ Great  God  ! the  blood  of  France  is  flowing  ! 
Why  did  you  not  call  me  sooner?  My  arms, 
my  arms  ! — my  horse,  my  horse  ! ” and  with- 
out waiting  for  Daulon,  who  was  himself  un- 
armed, she  rushed  from  the  house. 

Her  little  page  was  playing  on  the  steps. 
“ Ah  ! naughty  page,  why  did  you  not  tell  me 
that  the  blood  of  France  was  shed?  Quick! 
my  horse  ! ” She  sprang  to  her  saddle  ; and, 
approaching  a window  where  her  standard  was 
floating,  she  seized  it,  and  rode  at  full  speed  to 
the  gates  of  the  city.  On  arriving  there,  she 
met  a wounded  soldier  whom  they  were  carry- 
ing off.  “ Alas  ! ” she  exclaimed,  “ I never 
see  the  blood  of  a Frenchman  without  shudder- 
ing.” 

The  French  chevaliers  had  attempted  to  sur- 
prise the  Bastille  of  St.  Loup,  and  Talbot  had 
driven  them  back  to  the  ramparts  of  Orleans. 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


39 


Joan  rallied  the  fugitives,  called  up  re-enforce- 
ments, routed  Talbot,  and  assailed  the  for- 
tress. Great  slaughter  ensued,  and  the  garri- 
son were  taken  prisoners  ; but  the  conflict  over, 
her  heart  melting  with  compassion  towards  the 
dead  and  wounded,  she  wept  over  the  slain,  and 
quickly  put  an  end  to  the  carnage.  The  mira- 
cle of  her  wakefulness  and  her  intuition  ; the 
inspiration  wliich  filled  her,  and  beamed  in 
every  feature  of  her  beautiful  face  ; her  un- 
rivalled sway  in  the  army,  combined  with  her 
tenderness,  — elevated  her  to  the  dignity  of  a 
prophet  and  a hero  in  the  camp  of  the  French, 
and  spread  dismay  through  the  army  of  the 
English. 

Resolved  to  make  a decisive  attack  upon  the 
enemy  if  they  obstinately  refused  to  raise  the 
siege,  she  made  one  more  attempt  to  spare 
the  effusion  of  blood.  She  mounted  a tower, 
and,  tying  a letter  to  an  arrow,  shot  it  into  the 
enemy’s  camp.  She  summoned  them  to  sur- 
render, promising  them  mercy.  They  remaiued 
deaf  to  her  entreaties,  and  returned  in  the  same 
manner  the  most  infamous  replies.  She  blushed 
on  hearing  them  read,  and  could  not  keep  back 
her  tears,  but,  quickly  drying  her  eyes,  ex- 
claimed, “ God  knows  that  these  are  lies  ! ” 


40 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


XXIII. 

By  the  advice  of  Danois,  shè  commanded  a 
sortie,  and  a general  attack  on  the  four  for- 
tresses on  the  left  bank  of  the  Loire.  The 
French  were  repulsed,  and  put  to  flight.  Joan 
watched  the  battle  from  a little  island  in  the 
river  ; and,  seeing  the  rout,  she  threw  herself 
into  a light  boat,  and,  taking  her  horse  by  the 
bridle,  landed  in  the  midst  of  the  mêlée.  Her 
presence,  her  voice,  her  standard,  the  divinity 
which  the  soldiers  said  shone  in  her  counte- 
nance, electrified  them.  She-  led  them  to  the 
palisades,  reduced  the  forts,  and  set  fire  to  them 
with  her  own  hand.  The  ashes  of  these  Eng- 
lish  bastilles,  reeking  with  the  blood  of  their 
defenders,  were  the  trophy  of  this  victory. 
Joan  returned  triumphant,  but  wounded  in  the 
foot  by  au  arrow.  She  was  weakened  by  the 
loss  of  blood,  but  could  not  be  persuaded  to 
taste  either  food  or  drink,  having  made  a vow 
to  fast  on  that  day  for  the  redemption  of  her 
people. 

Dunois  and  his  lieutenants  thought  they  had 
accomplished  enough  by  driving  the  enemy 
from  one  side  of  the  river.  “ No,  no  ! ” said 
Joan:  “you  have  had  your  counsellors;  I 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


■ 41 


have  had  mine.  Believe  me,  the  commands  of 
my  Lord  and  King  must  prevail.  Be  ready 
to-morrow  : I have  a greater  work  to  do  than 
has  yet  been  done,  and  in  this  struggle  my 
blood  will  be  shed.” 

It  was  iu  vain  that  on  the  following  day  an 
order  was  issued  to  keep  the  gates  closed. 
The  populace  and  the  soldiers,  filled  with  en- 
thusiasm and  flushed  with  victory,  rose  sedi- 
tiously against  their  leaders,  and  even  threat- 
ened the  generals.  The  gates  were  broken 
open,  and  the  multitude  rushed  like  an  impetu- 
ous torrent  after  their  deliverer.  The  generals 
were  forced  along.  Dunois,  Gaucourt,  Gran- 
ville, Lahire,  Saintraille,  hastened  to  the  assault 
of  the  principal  fortress.  The  English,  protected 
by  ramparts  and  ditches,  mowed  down  the  ad- 
vancing masses  with  their  artillery  : the  ladders, 
hewn  down  with  axes,  fell  upon  the  assailants. 
The  foot  of  the  fortifications  was  heaped  with 
dead.  A panic  seized  the  multitude.  Joan 
alone  remained  firm  : she  seized  a ladder,  and, 
placing  it  against  the  rampart,  was  the  first  to 
mount,  sword  in  hand.  At  that  instant,  an 
arrow  struck  her  in  the  neck,  near  the  shoulder, 
and  she  fell  into  the  ditch.  The  English,  who 
regarded  the  capture  of  Joan  as  more  important 
than  any  victory,  rushed  from  their  intrench- 


t 


42  * JOAN  OF  ARC. 

ments,  and  attempted  to  seize  her  ; but  Ga- 
maches  sprang  to  her  assistance,  and  stood  over 
her  body,  battle-axe  in  hand.  At  his  summons, 
the  French  returned  to  the  charge,  and  rescued 
her.  She  soon  recovered  from  the  stunning 
effects  of  her  fall  ; and  Gamaches,  who  had 
perilled  his  life  to  save  her,  and  who  had 
witnessed  her  heroic  act,  seeing  her  lying 
wounded  and  bleeding,  exclaimed,  “ Accept 
my  horse  ! I was  wrong  to  have  distrusted  you, 
my  noble,  generous,  and  valiant  knight.”  They 
removed  her  to  a place  of  safety  that  her 
wound  might  he  dressed.  The  arrow  came 
out  behind  the  shoulder,  making  a wound 
longer  than  the  width  of  two  hands,  which 
bled  profusely.  Like  Clorinda,  she  was  com- 
pelled to  expose  her  person  ; “ but  the  purity 
of  her  soul,  and  the  sight  of  her  blood  shed 
for  her  country,”  says  Daulon,  “ clothed  her 
with  such  sanctity  in  her  nakedness,  that  an 
impure  thought  was  impossible.”  The  soldiers 
looked  upon  her  more  as  an  angel  than  a wo- 
man : yet  she  was  a woman,  weak  and  gentle  ; 
for  she-  wept  on  seeing  her  own  blood . flowing  ; 
but,  gaining  her  strength,  she  offered  up  a 
prayer  to  her  ministering  angels,  and  drew  out 
the  arrow  with  her  own  hand.  Some  of  the 
soldiers  tried  to  induce  her  to  use  magical 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


43 


incantations  and  other  superstitious  remedies 
to  effect  an  immediate  cure  ; but  she  gently- 
refused,  saying,  “ I would  rather  die  than  sin 
thus  against  the  will  of  God.”  The  wound 
being  dressed,  she  remounted  her  horse  to  fol- 
low with  regret  the  discouraged  army.  Turn- 
ing aside,  she  entered  a barn,  and  prayed  fer- 
vently for  guidance  in  this  critical  moment. 
She  burned  with  enthusiasm  to  continue  the 
battle,  yet  feared  lest  she  might  tempt  God. 


XXIV. 

Her  banner  still  remained  in  the  ditch,  at  the 
foot  of  the  ladder  from  which  she  had  fallen. 
Daulon,  catching  a glimpse  of  it,  ran  with  a 
few  soldiers  to  save  this  treasure.  Joan  hast- 
ened after  them  on  horseback.  When  the 
knight  placed  the  standard  in  the  hand  of  his 
mistress,  its  folds,  agitated  by  the  movements 
of  the  horse  and  by  the  wind,  unrolled,  and 
floated  in  the  sunlight.  The  French,  although  in 
full  retreat,  mistaking  it  for  a signal  from  Joan, 
instantly  rallied  to  her  aid.  The  English,  who 
believed  her  dead,  were  struck  with  consterna- 
tion on  seeing  her  again  on  horseback  at  the 
head  of  the  assailants.  They  imagined  they 


44 


JOAN  OF  AEG. 


beheld  celestial  beings,  the  tutelary  divinities 
of  Orleans,  in  the  midst  of  the  smoke  and  flash 
of  the  cannon,  fighting,  with  the  sword  of  the 
Lord,  for  Joan  and  for  France. 

A beam  thrown  across  the  ditch  served  as 
a bridge  to  an  intrepid  knight,  who  opened  the 
way  to  the  ramparts,  followed  by  the  French 
battalions.  The  English  commander,  Glads- 
dale,  gave  way  before  this  unexpected  irruption, 
and  endeavored  to  cross  a second  ditch  to  shel- 
ter himself  within  the  redoubt.  “ Surrender, 
Gladsdale  ! ” cried  Joan.  “Thou  hast  reviled 
me  ; but  I have  pity  on  thy  soul  and  on  thy 
followers.”  As  she  uttered  these  words,  the 
drawbridge,  upon  which  the  last  handful  of 
English  were  bravely  defending  themselves, 
was  broken  by  the  fall  of  a beam,  and  they 
were  suddenly  submerged  in  the  Loire. 

After  the  battle,  Joan  entered  Orleans  amid 
the  ringing  of  bells  and  the  shouts  of  rejoicing 
multitudes.  Her  face  was,  as  it  were,  trans- 
figured by  a holy  joy  at  this  victory,  achieved, 
as  she  fully  believed,  by  the  power  of  God,  but 
which  the  soldiers  and  the  people  attributed  to 
her  intrepidity,  her  superhuman  courage,  and 
the  divinity  which  clothed  her.  She  was  their 
glory,  their  salvation,  their  religion.  The  ob- 
scurity of  her  former  condition  endeared  her  to 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


45 


the  people  ; for  she  was  one  of  themselves. 
They  gloried  that  the  saviour  of  France  was 
born  in  a cottage,  as  the  Saviour  of  the  world 
had  formerly  been  born  in  a stable  at  Bethle- 
hem. 

# 

XXV. 

The  English  generals  acknowledged  the  hand 
of  Omnipotence  in  the  irresistible  power  of  the 
virgin  leader  of  the  French.  They  burned  the 
few  fortresses  they  still  retained  in  this  part  of 
France,  and  raised  the  siege  of  Orleans.  The 
French  army  and  the  people  breathed  nothing 
but  vengeance.  “ No,”  said  Joan  with  gentle 
authority  : “ they  must  not  be  slaughtered.  Let 
them  depart.”  Then,  erecting  an  altar  on  the 
ramparts  of  Orleans,  she  offered  up  a sacrifice 
of  pardon  to  her  enemies,  and  sung  hymns  of 
victory  while  the  English  filed  off  beneath  the 
walls  of  the  city. 

But  she  wasted  no  time  in  vain  triumphs. 
She  conducted  the  victorious  army  to  the  dau- 
phin to  assist  in  vanquishing  city  after  city. 
On  her  arrival,  the  king  and  the  queens  re- 
ceived her  as  the  envoy  of  heaven,  sent  to 
restore  to  them  the  lost  keys  of  the  kingdom. 
She  accepted  their  unbounded  expressions  of 


46 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


gratitude  with  diffidence  ; only  saying  with  sad- 
ness, “ My  work  must  be  quickly  accomplished  : 
I have  but  one  year  to  live.”  She  entreated 
the  dauphin  to  proceed  immediately  to  Rheims 
to  be  crowned,  although  that  city  and  the  ad- 
joining provinces  were  still  in  the  hands  of  the 
Burgundians,  the  Flemings,  and  the  English. 
The  rashness  of  this  advice  struck  the  council 
and  the  generals  with  amazement.  The  coro- 
nation of  the  king  at  Rheims  was,  in  the  eyes  of 
all,  an  impossibility  ; to  attempt  it  a folly, 
which  could  terminate  only  in  the  loss  of  the 
prestige  they  had  so  recently  gained.  They 
insisted  that  Normandy  and  the  capital  should 
first  be  reconquered.  Council  after  council  was 
held.  Joan  was  tormented  by  the  inaction  and 
listlessness  of  the  court.  IJer  voices  pressed 
upon  her  the  necessity  of  immediate  action,  and 
she  importuned  the  dauphin  to  set  out  without 
delay. 


XXYI. 

Oxe  day,  when  the  dauphin  was  closeted  with 
a bishop  and  some  confidential  friends,  deliber- 
ating on  the  course  he  should  take,  she  tapped 
gently  at  the  door.  The  king,  recognizing  her 
voice,  opened  it.  “Noble  dauphin,”  said  she, 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


47 


kneeling  before  him,  “ do  not  hold  these  long 
debates.  Go  and  receive  your  crown  at  Rheims. 
The  voice  of  God  commands  me  to  lead  you 
there.”  — “Joan,”  said  the  bishop,  “ how  does 
God  communicate  to  you  his  will?” — “Yes, 
Joan,”  added  the  king:  “tell  us  how.”  — 

“Well,”  she  replied,  “ I was  at  prayer,  pour- 
ing out  my  complaints  at  your  want  of  faith, 
when  I heard  a voice  say,  ‘ Go,  my  child  : I 
will  be  with  thee.’  When  I hear  this  voice,  in 
my  heart  I am  happy,  and  long  for  it  to  speak 
to  me  always.” 

The  dauphin,  inspired  with  hope  and  confi- 
dence by  these  words,  no  longer  resisted  the 
solicitations  of  the  virgin.  He  gave  the  com- 
mand of  the  army  to  the  Duc  d’Alençon,  and 
preparations  were  made  for  their  departure. 
They  first  marched  against  the  English,  who 
were  headed  by  Suffolk.  The  vast  numbers  to 
be  encountered  tided  severely  the  confidence  of 
the  court  and  the  little  band  who  followed 
Joan.  “ Fear  nothing,”  said  she.  “ God  is  our 
captain.  If  it  were  not  so,  I should  never  have 
left  my  home  to  encounter  the  perils  that  await 
us.”  Passing  through  Orleans,  which  still 
echoed  with  the  glory  of  her  achievements, 
they  marched  against  Suffolk,  who  had  retired 
to  Jergeau.  On  the  14th  of  June,  they  laid 


48 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


siege  to  the  place.  “ You  are  afraid,  gentle 
lord,”  said  Joan,  smiling  to  the  brave  D ’Alençon. 
“ But  be  of  good  cheer  : I have  promised  to 
return  you  safe  and  sound  to  your  wife.” 

It  was  on  the  following  day,  while  their  ar- 
tillery was  bombarding  the  city,  that  the  duke 
was  standing  by  Joan  ; when  she  suddenly 
pushed  him  from  the  spot,  and  the  next  in- 
stant the  head  of  a gentleman  who  took  the 
duke’s  place  was  carried  off  by  a cannon-ball. 

The  day  after,  a general  assault  was  made 
on  the  fortifications.  Great  slaughter  ensued  ; 
but  Joan,  impelled  by  a power  which  knew 
neither  fear  nor  failure,  mounted  the  ramparts, 
standard  in  hand.  Instantly  she  was  precipi- 
tated into  the  ditch  below  by  a stone,  which 
broke  her  helmet,  and  must  inevitably  have 
killed  her,  had  not  the  steel  .casque  and  her 
profusion  of  hair  saved  her.  She  soon  rose,  and 
resumed  her  place  ; and  the  city  was  taken  by 
storm.  Suffolk  surrendered  to  one  of  her 
knights. 


XXVII. 

She  urged  the  immediate  advance  of  the 
army.  They  set  out  in  pursuit  of  another  di- 
vision of  the  English,  commanded  by  Talbot 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


49 


in  La  Beauce.  Seperated  from  this  army  by  a 
forest,  Lahire,  who  led  the  advanced  guard, 
was  hesitating  which  road  to  take  ; when  a stag, 
passing  him  at  full  speed,  took  its  way  to  the 
camp  of  the  English,  whose  shouts  of  delight 
at  sight  of  this  prize  informed  the  French  of 
their  position.  The  English,  thus  surprised, 
were  totally  defeated.  Their  most  renowned 
chiefs,  Talbot  and  Scales,  were  taken  prisoners, 
and  sent  to  the  dauphin.  After  the  battle,  Joan, 
moved  to  tears  at  sight  of  her  bleeding  enemies, 
sprang  from  her  horse,  lifted  the  wounded  from 
the  bloody  ground,  and  dressed  their  wounds 
with  her  own  hands. 

The  Duke  of  Bedford  trembled  at  Paris. 
“ All  our  disasters,”  he  wrote  to  the  Cardinal 
of  Winchester,  “ are  owing  to  a young  magi- 
cian, who  has  inspired  the  French  by  her  sor- 
ceries.” He  recalled  the  Duke  of  Burgundy 
from  Flanders,  that  he  might  encourage  the 
troops,  and  aid  in  the  defence  of  Paris. 


XXVIII. 

After  this  battle,  Joan  returned  to  the  king, 
and  at  length  persuaded  him  to  proceed  with 
her  to  Kheims.  Their  route  lay  through  Auxerre 
4 


50 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


to  Troyes,  the  capital  of  Champagne.  This 
city  had  been  the  first  to  sign  the  famous  treaty 
disinheriting  the  dauphin,  and  now,  stimulated 
to  resistance  by  a garrison  of  English  and  Bur- 
gundians, refused  to  surrender.  Joan  wished 
to  storm  the  city  at  once  : but  the  generals 
feared  to  risk  an  attack  ; and,  after  a week  of 
fruitless  negotiations,  the  lord  chancellor  advised 
the  dauphin  to  raise  the  siege.  Council  after 
council  ensued.  Joan,  in  despair,  went  one 
day  to  the  chamber.  “ Noble  dauphin,”  said 
she,  “ waste  no  more  time  in  these  debates  ; for, 
in  the  name  of  God,  in  three  days  I shall  enter 
with  you  into  the  city.”  — “ Joan,”  said  the 
chancellor,  “ if  we  could  be  sure  of  taking  it  in 
six  days,  we  would  gladly  remain.”  — “ Oh  ! 
fear  not,”  she  replied  : “ to-morrow  you  shall  be 
master  of  Troyes.”  At  these  words  they  re- 
solved to  suspend  their  departure,  and  await 
the  issue. 

Joan  could  not  defer  her  preparations  till  the 
morrow  : she  hastened  to  the  field,  mounted  her 
horse,  and,  putting  the  army  in  motion,  pitched 
the  camp  on  the  edge  of  the  ditch  that  sur- 
rounded the  city.  Kuights,  squires,  archer’s, 
mechanics,  men  of  all  ranks,  worked  together, 
bringing  from  the  neighboring  houses  doors, 
tables,  windows,  and  rafters,  to  construct  a 
temporary  shelter  for  the  troops. 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


51 


The  tumult  occasioned  by  these  nocturnal 
preparations  began  to  create  alarm  in  the  city, 
which  had  hitherto  almost  ignored  the  presence 
of  the  royal  army.  The  terror  was  increased, 
when,  at  sunrise,  they  beheld  the  mysterious 
standard  of  the  Maid  of  Orleans  floating  before 
their  ramparts,  and  heard  Joan  cry,  “ To  arms, 
to  arms  ! ” The  French  battalions,  loaded  with 
fascines  and  ladders,  advanced  to  the  assault. 
A sudden  panic  seized  the  city,  and  the  terror- 
stricken  garrison  offered  to  capitulate. 

The  king,  in  his' astonishment  and  joy,  made 
no  difficulty  about  conditions  ; even  consenting 
that  the  English  should  take  their  prisoners 
with  them.  The  Anglo-Burgundian  garrison 
evacuated  Troyes  the  next  day  at  dawn  ; but, 
when  the  convoy  of  prisoners  reached  the  gate 
of  the  city,  they  met  Joan,  and,  falling  on  their 
knees,  implored  her  to  deliver  them.  “ In  the 
name  of  God,”  she  cried,  “ they  shall  not  be 
taken  hence  ! ” and  she  ordered  the  convoy  to 
stop.  No  one  attempted  to  gainsay  her  com- 
mands, and  the  prisoners  were  released. 

The  following  day,  at  the  earnest  entreaty  of 
Joan,  the  army  resumed  its  march.  As  the 
deliverer  of  Orleans  approached  her  birthplace, 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  people  increased.  Her 
family  at  length  acknowledged  her  inspiration  ; 


52 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


and  her  brothers,  whom  she  had  induced  to  join 
the  army,  were  distinguished  at  court,  and  the 
king  conferred  upon  them  a coat  of  arms. 
They  fought  and  conquered  under  the  eyes  of 
their  sister. 

But  there  were  some,  who,  jealous  of  her 
fame,  tried  to  disparage  the  illustrious  girl, 
whose  humility  amid  her  triumphs  should  have 
called  forth  only  veneration.  At  her  entrance 
into  Troyes,  Friar  Richard,  the  jealous  monk 
ot  whom  we  have  already  spoken,  even  had  the 
audacity  to  go  and  meet  her,  muttering  exor- 
cisms, and  making  the  sign  of  the  cross  upon 
her  charger,  as  it  she  were  an  emissary  of  Sa- 
tan. “ Approach,”  said  Joan,  smiling.  “ I shall 
not  fly.” 


XXIX. 

^ Chalons  and  Rheims  opened  their  gates. 
The  day  after  the  arrival  of  the  king,  his  coro- 
nation took  place  in  the  Cathedral  of  Notre 
Dame,  according  to  the  usual  ceremonies. 
Joan  stood  beside  the  altar,  her  standard  in 
her  hand.  Her  celestial  figure,  glorified  by 
the  rays  which  shone  through  the  painted  glass, 
seemed  the  personification  of  the  angel  of 
1 1 an  ce  presiding  over  the  resurrection  of  her 
country. 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


53 


After  the  ceremony  was  over,  Joan  ap- 
proached Charles,  and,  embracing  his  knees, 
exclaimed,  “ O gentle  king  ! now  the  will  of 
God  is  accomplished.  Pie  commanded  me  to 
lead  you  to  Rheims  to  receive  your  crown.  Be- 
hold ! you  are  king,  and  France  will  become 
subject  to  your  sway.” 

Charles  was  the  monarch  of  the  realm  ; but 
Joan  was  the  palladium  of  the  people.  The 
soldiers  knelt,  and  kissed  her  standard.  The 
women  touched  her  with  their  little  children 
as  they  would  a sacred  relic.  But  an  unwonted 
sadness  seemed  to  fill  her,  and  she  wept.  “ In 
the  name  of  God,”  said  she  to  the  bastard,  who 
was  standing  beside  her,  “ here  is  a good  and 
devoted  people  ; and,  when  I die,  I hope  it  may 
be  among  them.”  — “ Joan,”  said  Dunois,  “ do 
you  know  when  and  where  you  will  die  ?”  — 
“ Whenever  it  pleases  God,”  she  replied  ; “ but 
I know  neither  the  time  nor  the  place.  Oh 
that  it  were  the  will  of  piy  Creator  that  I should 
lay  down  my  arms,  and  return  to  my  father 
and  mother,  to  tend  their  flocks  with  my  broth- 
ers ! ” 

Thus  she  began  to  feel  those  foreshadowings 
of  the  future  which  oppress  the  spirit  of  the 
hero  after  the  crisis  of  his  destiny  has  passed,  — 


54 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


the  ascent  to  glory  and  to  victory  ; when  the 
last  act  of  the  tragedy  is  foreseen,  — the  descent 
from  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration,  and  the 
funeral-pyre  of  the  martyr. 


PART  SECOND. 


I. 

The  king  and  army  quitted  Rkeims  the  20tl) 
of  July,  and  descended  the  Valley  of  the  Aisne 
on  their  way  to  Paris. 

France  was  virtually  saved.  The  resurrection 
of  the  dauphin,  summoned  from  the  arms  of  his 
mistress  by  the  voice  of  a shepherdess  ; the  mi- 
raculous deliverance  of  Orleans  ; the  defeat  of 
Bedford  on  the  plains  of  La  Beauce  ; the  captivity 
or  death  of  the  most  renowned  English  gene- 
rals,— all  combined  to  kindle  a patriotism  al- 
most fanatic  throughout  the  nation,  and  spread 
terror  in  the  camps  of  the  English  and  Burgun- 
dians. 

The  very  soil  of  France  repudiated  her  ene- 
mies. They  felt  themselves  usurpers  of  her 
throne,  and  strangers  in  the  land.  The  corona- 
tion of  the  king  at  Rkeims,  in  which  the  people 
saw  his  legitimacy  decided  by  the  hand  of  the 
Almighty,  secured  to  him,  not  only  their  love, 

55 


56 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


but  their  religious  veneration.  To  revolt 
against  him  would  be  impiety.  In  defending 
him,  they  were  fighting  for  the  elect  of  God. 

Moreover,  as  always  happens  after  great  re- 
verses, division,  discord,  rivalries,  and  mutual 
recriminations,  distracted  the  councils  of  the 
English  and  Burgundians.  The  Duke  of  Bed- 
ford, Regent  of  France,  and  the  Cardinal  of 
Winchester,  Sovereign  of  England  under  the 
child-king,  hated  and  circumvented  each  other 
while  preserving  the  semblance  of  a good  under- 
standing and  mutual  support.  The  cardinal, 
however,  becoming  alarmed  at  the  disgraceful 
defeats  of  Bedford,  brought  a new  army  to 
Paris,  where  the  duke  awaited  him  in  trembling 
anxiety. 

All  the  cities  of  the  surrounding  provinces 
declared  in  favor  of  the  French.  The  standard 
of  Joan,  unfurled  before  their  walls,  sufficed  to 
open  their  gates  to  Charles.  The  superstition 
,of  the  people  saw  floating  round  this  standard 
celestial  flames,  raying  forth  the  divine  power 
which  accompanied  this  envoy  of  God.  Whole 
villages  ran  to  meet  the  king,  singing  Te  Deum 
Laudamus  ; and  pressed  round  Joan,  weeping 
for  joy.  She  gently  rebuked  their  superstitious 
reverence  and  homage,  disclaiming  all  super- 
human virtue,  and  telling  them  that  all  she  had 
done  had  been  accomplished  through  God. 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


57 


II. 

After  some  manœuvres  of  the  French  and 
English  around  Paris,  the  king  advanced  to  St. 
Denis  ; and  the  Duke  of  Bedford  hastened  to 
shut  himself  up  in  the  city,  to  defend  it  against 
assault  from  without,  and  treachery  from  within. 
The  Duke  of  Burgundy,  beginning  to  see  on 
which  side  victory  would  ultimately  perch,  be- 
gan to  negotiate  secretly  with  Charles.  Joan, 
consulted  about  these  negotiations,  did  all  in  her 
power  to  forward  them.  The  letters  which  she 
dictated  to  the  duke  breathed  nothing  but  peace, 
reciprocal  good  will,  and  the  necessity  of  a 
union  of  all  members  of  the  French  family 
against  the  foreign  invader. 

Joan  urged  the  king  to  attack  Paris  at  once  : 
but  several  days  were  wasted  in  attempts  at  ne- 
gotiation ; and  when,  at  length,  the  generals 
decided  to  make  a vigorous  demonstration,  she 
showed  a fatal  reluctance  which  they  had  never 
before  witnessed.  Her  voices  warned  her  to 
remain  at  St.  Denis  ; but  the  generals  dragged 
her,  almost  perforce,  to  La  Chapelle. 

An  unhappy  occurrence  which  took  place  at 
this  time  caused  her  much  trouble  and  sadness. 
The  astonishing  change  which  she  had  wrought 


58 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


in  the  morals  of  the  soldiers  had  been  of  short 
duration  ; and  they  soon  returned  to  their  disso- 
lute habits.  I he  chaste  girl  could  not  become 
habituated  to  their  gross  immorality.  One  day, 
indignant  at  some  soldiers  who  were  attempting 
to  violate  a peasant-girl,  she  struck  one  of  them 
on  the  cuirass  with  the  blade  of  her  sword, 
with  such  force  as  to  break  it  in  two.  It  was 
the  sword  which  had  been  like  a talisman  in  her 
hand.  Fatal  presage  ! She  wept  bitterly  over 
its  loss.  She  still  retained,  however,  her  white 
standard  and  her  little  battle-axe. 


III. 

Tiie  next  day,  the  French  troops,  defiling 
along  the  walls  of  Paris,  put  themselves  in  bat- 
tle-array on  the  rising  ground  opposite  the  Gate 
St.  Honoré.  A furious  cannonade  immediately 
commenced  on  both  sides*.  From  this  eminence, 
covered  to-day  with  streets,  houses,  and  churches, 
J oan  commanded  the  assault  of  the  ramparts. 
She  leaped  the  first  ditch  with  the  Duc  d’Alen- 
çon and  the  other  generals,  under  fire  of  the 
city  , but,  on  arriving  at  the  second,  was  exposed, 
almost  alone,  to  the  bullets  of  the  enemy.  Hav- 
ing sounded  the  depth  of  the  water  with  her 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


59 


lance,  she  ordered  the  soldiers  to  till  the  ditch 
with  fascines,  and,  waving  her  standard,  called 
upon  the  city  to  surrender  ; but  at  that  instant 
an  arrow  pierced  her  thigh,  and  she  fell,  fainting, 
on  a heap  of  dead  and  wounded.  They  removed 
her  to  the  farther  side  of  a little  hillock  which 
separated  the  two  ditches,  that  the  arrow  might 
be  withdrawn.  As  soon  as  she  recovered  her 
consciousness,  she  raised  herself  on  the  litter, 
and  encouraged  the  soldiers  by  voice  and  ges- 
ture to  continue  the  assault. 

The  brave  chevaliers  entreated  her  to  be  re- 
moved to  the  camp.  The  arrows  and  balls  fell 
thick  as  hail,  and  strewed  the  ground  around 
her  : the  ditches  were  piled  with  the  slain.  She 
would  not  go.  At  length  a message  came  from 
the  king  at  St.  Denis,  ordering  the  army  to  re- 
treat. Joan  was  in  despair  ; but  nothing  could 
induce  her  to  abandon  the  field. 

Night  fell  upon  city  and  plain.  The  Due 
d’Alençon,  trembling  at  the  idea  of  losing  her, 
and,  in  her,  the  inspiration  and  hope  of  the  army, 
was  forced,  late  at  night,  to  seek  her  himself 
among  the  heaps  of  slain,  and  carry  her,  in  the 
arms  of  his  soldiers,  from  this  field  of  carnage 
where  she  wished  to  die.  As  she  passed  through 
the  camp,  she  heard  the  reproaches  and  impre- 
cations of  the  soldiery.  It  was  the  first  draught 


60 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


from  that  bitter  chalice  which  she  was  destined 
to  drain  to  the  dregs. 

To  conceal  their  heavy  loss  from  the  English, 
the  French  carried  their  dead  from  the  field, 
and,  laying  them  in  one  great  funeral-pile, 
burned  them  during  the  night. 

This  terrible  reverse  was  the  first  blow  to  the 
fame  of  Joan,  as  the  deliverer  sent  by  Heaven. 
She  began  to  doubt  herself.  Her  faith  was 
staggered  by  this  disaster.  She  humbled  her- 
self before  God  and  the  king,  and,  renouncing 
war,  hung  her  armor  and  sword  on  the  tomb  of 
St.  Denis  in  the  cathedral.  The  king  and  gen- 
erals entreated  her  to  resume  them,  blaming 
themselves  for  the  defeat  in  not  following  her 
advice,  and  insisting  that  her  presence  alone 
could  save  the  army  and  France.  She  could 
not  resist  this  appeal,  and  devoted  herself  anew 
to  her  country,  but  rather  with  the  resignation 
of  a martyr  than  the  enthusiasm  of  a hero. 


IV. 

The  army  became  demoralized  after  this  ill- 
fated  enterprise  against  Paris.  A truce  was  con- 
cluded, preparatory  to  negotiations  ; and  Joan 
went  to  assist  the  Duke  of  Normandy  in  recov- 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


61 


ering  his  personal  estates  from  the  English. 
Lord  d’Albret  afterwards  induced  her  to  accom- 
pany him  to  Bourges. 

At  the  siege  of  St.  Pierre  le  Moutier,  her  in- 
sph'ation  returned  amid  the  smoke  and  thunder 
of  the  assault.  Almost  alone  on  the  farther  side 
of  the  ditch,  abandoned  by  her  soldiers,  she  still 
fought.  “ Joan,  come  back  ! ” cried  Daulon. 
“ You  are  alone  !”  — “No,”  she  replied  with  ex- 
ultation, pointing  to  heaven,  “ I have  fifty  thou- 
sand men.”  Her  soldiers,  inspired  by  these 
words,  returned  with  fury  to  the  assault,  and, 
scaling  the  walls,  made  themselves  masters  of 
the  city. 

On  the  resumption  of  hostilities  between 
Charles  VII.  and  the  English,  she  returned 
with  her  army  to  the  king,  then  encamped  un- 
der the  walls  of  Paris  ; but  her  soul  was  filled 
with  fatal  presentiments.  Her  voices  had  told 
her  that  she  would  be  taken  prisoner  in  less  than 
three  months.  “ Be  not  dismayed,”  they  said  : 
“ God  will  be  with  thee.”  Daily  these  sad 
warnings  were  repeated.  She  no  longer  felt  the 
inspiration  of  certain  victory,  but  suffered  her- 
self to  be  directed  by  the  generals.  She  im- 
parted to  no  one  the  thoughts  which  oppressed 
her;  and  her  companions  in  arms  saw  her  always 
displaying  the  same  courage,  always  clothed 


62 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


with  the  same  serenity.  She  prayed  only  that 
she  might  be  spared  the  horrors  of  a long  im- 
prisonment. 

After  routing  several  detachments  of  the 
enemy,  she  hastened  to  Compiègne  to  defend  it 
against  the  Duke  of  Burgundy.  The  city  was 
strongly  fortified  and  well  provisioned,  the  gar- 
rison numerous,  and  the  inhabitants  devoted  to 
the  national  cause  ; but  the  commandant,  William 
de  Flavy,  although  a brave  soldier,  was  a brutal 
and  debauched  man,  and  rumor  accused  him  of 
hostility  to  Joan.  The  chaste  girl  could  scarcely 
conceal  the  horror  with  which  he  inspired  her  ; 
and  it  was  natural  that  he  should  hate  her, 
whose  purity  and  gentleness  were  his  daily  re- 
proach. The  other  captains,  too,  chafed  under 
the  stern  discipline  which  she  maintained  in  the 
army,  and  the  sleepless  vigilance  with  which 
she  protected  the  people  from  their  exactions  and 
their  violence. 


y. 

Joan  had  left  Compiègne  to  obtain  men  for 
the  defence  of  the  city.  Escaping  the  vigilance 
of  the  besiegers,  she  re-entered  the  place  on  the 
25th  May,  before  sunrise.  The  generals  had 
decided  to  make  a sortie  before  night.  Joan 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


63 


went  in  the  morning  to  communion  in  the  Church 
of  St.  James  de  Compiègne.  She  was  leaning 
against  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  nave,  lost  in 
thought,  when  the  poor  people  and  the  children 
pressed  round  her,  grieved  by  the  sadness  of 
her  face.  “Alas,  my  good  friends,  my  dear  chil- 
dren ! ” said  she,  “ my  heart  tells  me  that  I have 
been  sold  to  the  English.  I shall  be  betrayed,  and 
abandoned  to  a cruel  death.  Pray  for  me.  Ere 
long,  I can  serve  neither  my  king  nor  my  coun- 
try.” Fatal  presentiment,  which  calls  to  mind 
the  words  of  our  Saviour  at  the  Last  Supper. 

For  some  time,  they  had  noticed  a deep  sadness 
about  her.  She  would  go  at  evening  into  the 
churches,  and  kneel  among  the  children  who 
were  receiving  instruction  in  religion.  They 
would  find  her  absorbed  in  prayer  under  the 
shadow  of  the  blackest  pilktrs.  Here  she 
poured  out  the  agony  of  her  spirit  like  her  divine 
Master  on  the  Mount  of  Olives. 

Her  mother,  who  went  to  see  her  at  Rheims, 
astonished  at  her  intrepidity  in  battle,  had  said 
to  her  one  day,  “But,  Joan,  are  you  afraid  of 
nothing?”  — “Nothing  but  treason,”  she  had 
replied. 

About  five  o’clock,  in  obedience  to  the  decis- 
ion of  the  council  of  war,  Joan  left  Compiègne 
at  the  head  of  five  or  six  hundred  men,  and, 


64 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


crossing  the  Oise,  fell  upon  the  enemy.  Never 
had  she  displayed  more  courage.  Three  times 
she  repulsed  them,  and  drove  them  into  their  in- 
trenchments  ; but,  at  the  close  of  the  day,  the 
English  and  Burgundians  concentrated  all  their 
forces,  and,  surrounding  the  handful  of  knights 
who  followed  Joan,  bent  every  effort  to  kill  or 
capture  her,  whom  they  regarded  as  the  soul  of 
the  French  army,  the  only  cause  of  their  for- 
mer defeats.  Surrounded  and  pursued  in  the 
midst  of  her  followers,  she  sacrilied  herself  to 
save  those  who  had  confided  in  her.  Whilst 
they  were  crossing  the  drawbridge  to  re-enter 
the  city,  she  remained  behind,  alone,  to  protect 
their  retreat.  The  last  soldier  had  passed  the 
moat  in  safety  ; when,  turningr  she  spurred  her 
horse  to  the  bridge.  . . . Too  late  : it  rose  at 
that  instant,  leaving  her  to  the  mercy  of  her 
enemies. 

An  archer  seized  her  violently,  and  dragged 
her  from  her  horse.  She  rose,  and  attempted  to 
defend  herself,  but  was  instantly  surrounded,  and 
disarmed.  She  surrendered  to  Lionel,  Bastard 
of  Vendôme,  and  was  conducted  to  the  Lord  of 
Luxemburg,  general  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy. 
No  victory  could  be  of  such  importance  to  the 
English  and  Burgundians  as  this  prize,  thus 
thrown  into  their  hands  by  accident  or  by 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


65 


treachery.  The  Duke  of  Burgundy  hastened  to 
assure  himself  of  his  good  fortune  by  beholding 
the  maid  with  his  own  eyes.  He  conversed 
with  her  long  in  private  ; but  how  much  influence 
this  interview  had  on  his  future  conduct  can 
only  be  conjectured. 

The  cannon  of  the  camps,  and  the  Te  Deum 
of  the  cathedrals,  celebrated  the  capture  of  Joan 
df  Arc  in  every  city  and  province  of  the  allies. 
They  imagined  they  saw  the  conquest  of  all 
France  in  the  capture  of  this  young  girl. 

Their  delight  was  only  equalled  by  the  terror 
and  despair  of  the  French.  Consternation 
spread  through  the  cities  of  the  Loire.  At  Or- 
leans, Tours,  Blois,  where  she  was  cvorshipped, 
public  prayers  and  processions  were  ordained 
for  her  deliverance.  The  people  of  Tours 
marched  barefoot  through  thé  streets,  weeping, 
and  chanting  the  Miserere.  The  poor  bitterly 
reproached  the  lords  and  generals  with  having 
betrayed  the  holy  virgin  who  had  been  sent  by 
God  to  put  an  end  to  their  miseries.  A deep 
gloom  fell  upon  the  land. 

The  Bastard  of  Vendôme,  having  no  castle 
sufficiently  strong  to  secure  such  a prisoner, 
delivered  her  up  to  the  Lord  of  Luxemburg, 
whose  vassal  he  was,  and  whose  favor  he  hoped 
to  gain  by  this  priceless  gift. 

5 


66 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


It  was  an  infamous  crime  for  a knight  to 
deliver  up  or  to  sell  to  another  a prisoner 
whom  the  chances  of  war  had  placed  at  his 
mercy.  The  prison  should  be  as  sacred  as 
the  fireside.  Lord  Lionel  was  bound  to  protect 
his  captive  by  the  laws  of  honor  and  the  usages 
of  war,  which  forbade  him  to  surrender  her 
except  for  a ransom  offered  by  France.  Her 
sex,  her  age,  her  beauty,  the  gentleness  and 
humanity  she  always  displayed  after  a battle, 
her  resolution  never  to  shed  a drop  of  blood, 
the  purity  of  her  morals,  and  the  simplicity  of 
her  faith,  should  have  at  least  insured  her  pity 
and  respect. 


VI. 

They  sent  her  first  to  the  Fortress  of  Beau- 
lieu ; but  she  was  afterwards  removed  to 
Beaurevoir,  a castle  more  remote  from  the 
theatre  of  war,  and  very  strongly  fortified. 
The  Duke  of  Burgundy  had  already  bought 
her  from  Luxemburg  ; the  English,  from  the 
Duke  of  Burgundy  ; and  the  Inquisition  of 
Paris  now  hastened  to  outbuy  them  all. 

u By  virtue  of  our  office,”  wrote  the  Vicar- 
General  of  the  Inquisition  to  the  Lord  of  Luxem- 
burg, in  whose  hands  she  still  was,  “ we  demand 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


67 


and  enjoin,  in  the  name  of  oui'  holy  faith,  and 
under  penalty  of  the  law,  that  you  send,  without 
delay,  Joan,  suspected  of  heinous  crimes,  to  be 
tried  before  this  court  of  the  Holy  Inquisition.” 
Thus  it  was  that  the  French  were  zealous  to 
avenge  the  English  ; and  the  Church  of  France 
rose  up  against  the  liberty  of  its  own  altars. 

The  Lord  of  Luxemburg,  a foreigner,  was 
less  cruel  than  her  own  countrymen  ; and  the 
ladies  of  his  household  treated  her  with  the 
utmost  tenderness  and  respect.  The  University 
of  Paris,  scandalized  at  the  kindness  shown 
her,  and  basely  leagued  with  the  Inquisition, 
supported  the  demands  of  the  vicar-general  by 
letters  still  more  imperative. 

In  this  drama  of  iniquity,  a new  actor  now 
appeared,  — the  famous  Peter  Cauclion,  Bishop 
of  Beauvais,  who  was  indeed  the  Caiaphas  of 
this  Calvary.  He  was  sold  heart  and  soul  to 
the  English.  He  now  wrote  to  the  Lord  of 
Luxemburg,  demanding  that  “ the  woman  called 
Joan  the  virgin  ” should  be  delivered  up  to  the 
Church  for  trial,  and  offering,  in  the  name  of 
the  King  of  England,  a reward  of  ten  thousand 
francs.  The  ladies  of  Luxemburg  in  vain  ex- 
horted Lord  John  to  repulse  indignantly  this 
infamous  proposal  : he  did  not  dare  to  resist  the 
secret  desires  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  the 


68 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


commands  of  the  English,  and  the  orders  of 
the  University  and  the  Inquisition. 

The  responsibility  of  this  atrocious  crime, 
which  all  seek  to  shun,  rests  upon  Paris,  that 
accused  her  ; Luxemburg,  who  basely  surren- 
dered her  ; the  Inquisition,  which  sentenced  her  ; 
the  English,  who  burned  her  ; and  on  the 
French,  whose  unparalleled  ingratitude  left 
her  in  the  hands  of  her  persecutors  without 
even  offering  a ransom. 

Thus  far,  Joan  had  borne  her  misfortunes 
patiently.  Her  voices  consoled  her  in  her 
captivity.  She  was  far  more  concerned  for 
the  deliverance  of  Compiègne  than  for  her  own 
fate,  although  she  knew  at  that  time  that  she 
had  been  sold  to  the  English.  The  patriotism 
of  the  inhabitants  of  this  city  had  called  forth 
her  tenderest  sympathy.  She  knew  that  they 
still  defended  themselves  ; and  she  prayed  God 
to  release  her,  that  she  might  return  to  their 
aid.  The  announcement,  that,  when  Compiègne 
was  taken,  the  inhabitants,  even  the  little  chil- 
dren, would  be  put  to  the  sword,  drove  her  to 
despair.  She  resolved  to  escape,  or  perish  in 
the  attempt;  and,  commending  herself  to  God, 
leaped  from  the  top  of  the  Tower  of  Beaurevoir 
Her  guards  found  her  senseless  in  the  ditch 
below  ; but  she  was  only  severely  bruised.  St. 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


69 


Catherine,  as  she  afterwards  said,  consoled  her, 
and  told  her  to  ask  pardon  of  God  ; assuring 
her,  at  the  same  time,  that  Compiègne  would 
receive  assistance  before  St.  Martin’s  Day. 

Joan  recovered  but  too  soon  from  the  effects 
of  her  fall.  In  the  beginning  of  October,  she 
was  taken  to  Arras,  and  thence  to  Rouen,  to 
await  her  trial.  She  was  confined  in  an  iron 
cage  ; and  chains  were  fastened  round  her  neck, 
her  ankles,  and  her  wrists.  Thus  began  the 
passion  of  the  daughter  of  God , as  she  called 
herself  when  in  her  states  of  exaltation.  The 
passion  of  Christ  lasted  a few  hours  : that  of 
this  holy  maid  continued  six  months. 


VII. 

The  events  of  the  war  redoubled  the  fury  of 
the  English.  They  thought  every  thing  was 
gained  when  Joan  was  captured  ; but  they  met 
only  with  fresh  disasters.  The  spirit  of  this 
angel  of  war  still  hovered  over  the  armies  of 
France.  Compiègne  was  relieved  the  last  of 
October.  The  Duke  Vendôme,  Marshal  Bous- 
sac,  and  Saintrailles  arrived  with  four  thousand 
men,  and  fell  upon  the  camp  of  the  besiegers. 
The  garrison,  the  people,  even  the  women, 


70 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


rushed  out  of  the  city,  and,  furiously  assailing 
the  works  of  the  English  and  Burgundians,  met 
the  army  of  relief  in  the  midst  of  the  enemy’s 
lines.  During  the  night,  the  soldiers  of  the 
allies  fled,  despite  all  their  generals  could  do 
to  retain  them.  Joan,  although  invisible,  tri- 
umphed everywhere.  The  malignity  of  her 
enemies  turned  to  relentless  hate  : the  University 
and  the  Inquisition,  servile  partisans  of  the 
English,  had  already  determined  upon  her 
death,  vainly  thinking  to  quench  the  patriotism 
of  France  in  the  blood  of  her  savior. 

No  time  was  lost  after  the  arrival  of  the 
maid  at  Rouen.  On  the  28th  of  December, 
the  Chapter  of  the  Cathedral  granted  territorial 
jurisdiction  to  Cauchon,  Bishop  of  Beauvais, 
that  he  might  appoint  the  trial  of  Joan  in  a 
diocese  not  his  own.  On  the  3d  of  January, 
letters-patent  from  the  King  of  England  de- 
creed that  Joan  should  be  given  up  to  the 
bishop,  to  be  tried  according  to  “ God  and  the 
law.” 

It  is  said,  that,  a short  time  previous  to  the 
appearance  of  Joan  before  her  judges,  the  Lord 
of  Luxemburg,  on  his  way  through  Rouen, 
stopped  to  see  her,  taking  with  him  the  Earls  of 
Strafford  aud  Warwick,  that  they  might  feast 
their  eyes  on  the  terror  of  the  English,  dis- 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


71 


armed,  and  loaded  with  chains.  “ Joan,”  said 
he  with  cruel  irony,  “ I have  come  to  pay  your 
ransom,  and  to  deliver  you,  on  condition  that 
you  will  promise  never  again  to  take  up  arms 
against  us.”  — “Ah,  my  God!”  she  replied  in 
accents  of  gentle  reproach.  “ You  but  mock 
me  : you  have  neither  the  power  nor  the  will. 
Nothing  hut  my  death  will  satisfy  the  English. 
They  think,  when  they  have  killed  me,  they 
will  regain  their  power  in  France  ; but,  if  they 
numbered  a hundred  thousand  more,  they  could 
not  conquer  this  kingdom.”  Strafford  drew 
his  dagger  to  avenge  the  courageous  words  of 
the  captive  ; but  Warwick  seized  his  arm,  and 
prevented  this  outrage. 


VIII. 

The  bishop,  in  order  that  the  accused  might 
be  under  the  constant  surveillance  of  the  English, 
carried  on  the  trial  in  the  Castle  of  Rouen, 
where  she  was  imprisoned. 

They  had  taken  her  from  the  iron  cage  in 
which  she  had  been  at  first  confined  ; but,  dur- 
ing the  day,  they  still  kept  her  feet  in  fetters, 
and  at  night  put  chains  round  her  waist  and 
legs.  Her  jailers  were  wretches  chosen  from 


72 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


the  vilest  of  the  English  soldiery.  Animated 
by  the  most  brutal  hatred,  they  taxed  their 
ingenuity  and  their  malice  to  torment  her.  At 
night,  they  would  awaken  her  by  shouting  that 
the  officers  had  come  to  lead  her  to  execution. 
Several  times  they  attempted  to  violate  lier  ; and 
one  day,  if  the  commandant  of  the  castle  had  not 
heard  her  shrieks,  they  would  have  effected  their 
infamous  design. 

A notary  had  been  despatched  to  Domrémy 
to  see  if  any  grounds  of  accusation  could  he 
found  against  her  there  ; but  in  vain  : all  bore 
testimony  to  her  faith,  her  sincerity,  and  her 
virtue.  The  companions  of  her  childhood, 
faithful  to  truth  and  to  friendship,  spoke  of  her 
with  tears  of  tenderness  and  compassion  ; the 
soldiers,  with  admiration  ; the  people,  with 
gratitude.  On  his  return,  Cauchon  met  him 
with  insults,  calling  him  a traitor  and  a vil- 
lain, and  refused  to  pay  his  wages.  It  became 
necessary  to  seek  for  grounds  of  accusation  by 
resorting  to  the  most  hellish  plots. 

They  engaged  a monk  of  Rouen,  Nicolas 
L’Oiseleur,  to  enter  Joan’s  prison  in  a layman’s 
dress,  and  win  her  confidence  by  representing 
himself  as  a loyal  French  prisoner.  The 
ingenuous  girl,  incapable  of  suspecting  this 
refinement  of  cruelty,  answered  his  questions 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


73 


about  her  voices,  and  all  the  incidents  which 
it  was  important  that  her  enemies  should  know. 
This  wretch  then  informed  her  that  he  was  a 
priest,  in  order  to  obtain  from  her,  under  the 
sacred  seal  of  the  confessional,  the  revelation 
of  her  most  secret  thoughts.  During  the  inter- 
view of  L’Oiseleur  with  Joan,  notaries  were 
posted  in  the  adjoining  room  to  take  down 
every  word  she  uttered  ; but  they  blushed  at 
their  office,  and  refused  to  lend  themselves  to 
this  infamous  plot.  Cauchon  could,  therefore, 
obtain  no  official  testimony  against  her  ; but  the 
information  furnished  by  L’Oiseleur  gave  him 
subjects  for  interrogation. 

Moi'e  than  a hundred  learned  ecclesiastics 
and  jurists  were  assembled  at  Rouen  to  form 
the  tribunal  before  which  she  was  to  be  tried. 
It  seemed  as  though  the  judges  fancied,  that,  by 
dividing  the  guilt,  they  might  ease  their  con- 
sciences, and  diminish  the  horror  with  which 
they  would  be  regarded  by  posterity.  These 
judges,  however,  could  only  examine  the  accu- 
sations, and  inform  against  the  accused.  The 
Bishop  of  Beauvais,  and  the  vicar  of  the 
inquisitor-general,  Jean  Lemaistre,  alone  had 
power  to  pronounce  sentence  upon  her.  That 
sentence  was  already  decided  in  their  hearts. 

A number  of  the  members  of  the  tribunal 


74 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


attended  only  through  compulsion  or  fear.  One 
of  the  assessors,  Nicolas  de  Houpeville,  had 
openly  declared  that  neither  the  Bishop  of 
Beauvais  nor  his  adherents  had  any  right  to 
sit  as  judges,  because  they  belonged  to  the 
party  hostile  to  the  accused.  He  reminded 
them  also  that  Joan  had  been  examined  before 
a higher  tribunal  at  Poitiers  ; viz.,  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Rheims,  Metropolitan  of  the  Bishop  of 
Beauvais.  Houpeville  was  arrested,  and  obliged 
to  seek  safety  in  flight.  He  was  soon  followed 
by  another  celebrated  jurist,  John  Lohier,  who 
refused  to  proceed  with  the  suit,  which  he  de- 
clared null  and  void. 

The  vicar  of  the  inquisitor-general,  whether 
touched  with  pity  or  visited  by  conscientious 
scruples,  appears  to  have  restrained  rather  than 
excited  the  ferocity  of  the  bishop,  and  to  have 
given  to  the  trial  some  forms  of  justice  and 
lenity.  Before  this  tribunal,  Joan  was  sum- 
moned to  appear  on  the  21st  of  February,  1431. 
Then  commenced  that  trial  which  has  had  no 
parallel  in  the  history  of  the  world  since  that 
which  culminated  in  the  tragedy  of  Calvary. 

When  we  review  the  incomplete  and  muti- 
lated accounts  which  we  have  received  from  the 
timid  pens  of  the  scribes,  the  heart  is  filled  with 
anguish,  and  the  hand  trembles  as  we  turn  the 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


75 


yellow  pages.  What  should  we  feel  if  we  had 
the  history  of  this  martyrdom  written  by  a 
witness  filled  with  the  spirit  of  this  inspired 
girl,  imbued  with  the  loftiness  of  her  mission, 
if  her  gestures,  the  tones  of  her  voice,  the  emo- 
tions of  her  soul,  the  varied  expression  of  her 
face,  could  have  been  preserved?  'Even  the 
imperfect  compilation  of  the  notaries,  and  the 
facts  stated  twenty  years  afterwards  by  eye- 
witnesses, reveal,  in  the  prosecution  of  the  trial, 
a series  of  diabolical  plots  worthy  of  the  court 
of  hell. 


IX. 

We  are  carried  back  in  imagination  to  that 
gloomy  hall  where  rises  an  image  of  the  cruci- 
fied Jesus,  as  if  to  rebuke  a second  time  the 
outrages  of  the  Pharisees  ; those  benches,  filled 
with  dark  figures  in  whom  we  see  personified 
the  most  malignant  passions  of  a degraded 
priesthood,  — implacable  hate,  besotted  egotism, 
cupidity,  and  hypocrisy.  Around  the  tribunal, 
behind  the  Venetian  doors,  in  the  recesses  of  the 
windows,  in  the  obscure  corners  of  the  hall,  are 
seen  the  glittering  arms  and  ferocious  counte- 
nances of  the  English,  who  threaten  the  accused, 
and  even  the  judges  themselves. 


76 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


Joan  appeared,  pale,  tottering,  broken  down  by 
two  months  of  horrible  impi'isonment.  A tem- 
pest of  wrath  burst  forth  at  her  appearance. 
The  questions  were  put  to  her  with  such  rapidi- 
ty as  to  render  it  almost  impossible  to  reply  ; 
while  summons  to  answer  burst  from  all  quar- 
ters. Every  word  she  uttered  redoubled  the 
tumult.  The  interrogations  ceased  to  be  vio- 
lent only  to  become  perfidious.  Joan  stood 
alone,  without  an  advocate,  without  counsel. 
Those  of  the  assessors  who  sought  to  aid  her 
by  giving  her  the  most  indispensable  explana- 
tions exposed  themselves  to  the  furious  invec- 
tives of  Cauchon  and  the  vengeance  of  the 
English.  These  scenes  were  prolonged  between 
three  and  four  hours,  and  were  renewed  some- 
times twice  a day.  They  hoped  thus  to  over- 
whelm her  by  bodily  fatigue  added  to  mental 
suffering. 

The  bishop  spoke  to  the  accused  at  first  with 
great  meekness,  that  his  seeming  impartiality 
and  pity  might  give  weight  to  his  decree.  She 
complained  gently  of  the  weight  of  her  chains, 
and  the  pressure  of  the  iron  rings  on  her  limbs. 
The  bishop  reminded  her  that  these  fetters  were 
a precaution  which  they  had  been  constrained 
to  take  on  account  of  her  repeated  attempts  to 
escape.  The  prisoner  replied,  that,  at  the  com- 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


77 


mencement  of  her  captivity,  she  naturally  de 
sired  liberty  ; but  that  there  was  neither  crime 
nor  dishonor  in  attempting  to  gain  it,  since  she 
had  never  pledged  her  faith  not  to  leave  the 
castle. 

The  accusations  against  her  were  then  read, 
in  which  she  was  charged  with  crimes  against 
the  holy  faith,  with  heresy  and  sacrilege.  In- 
terrogated concerning  her  age,  she  answered 
that  she  was  about  nineteen.  Respecting  her 
faith,  she  said  that  her  mother  had  taught  her 
the  Lord’s  Prayer,  the  Ave,  and  the  Creed  ; and 
that  no  one  except-  her  mother  had  taught  her 
any  thing  about  religion.  They  commanded 
her  to  repeat  aloud  the  two  prayers  and  the 
creed.  She  was  evidently  afraid  to  obey,  lest, 
in  reciting  them  in  Latin  before  the  doctors, 
she  should  make  some  mistake  or  omission 
which  would  be  construed  into  heresy.  “I 
will  recite  them  willingly,”  she  said,  “ if  the 
Bishop  of  Beauvais  will  consent  to  hear  me  as 
my  confessor.”  Doubtless  she  imagined,  that, 
by  opening  her  heart  to  the  priest,  she  would 
convince  her  judge  of  the  sincerity  and  ortho- 
doxy of  her  faith.  She  was  remanded,  stag- 
gering under  the  weight  of  her  chains,  to  the 
dungeon. 

The  following  day,  they  commanded  her  to 


78 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


swear  that  she  would  answer  truthfully  all  the 
questions  put  to  her.  She  replied,  “ I will 
speak  the  truth  respecting  all  things  ; but  the 
secrets  of  God  and  my  king  I will  not  betray.” 

She  confessed,  that,  from  the  age  of  thirteen, 
she  had  heard  voices  and  seen  celestial  lights 
in  her  mother’s  garden,  near  the  church  ; that 
these  voices  had  always  given  her  wise  counsel  ; 
that  they  had  commanded  her  to  go  to  Orleans, 
and  raise  the  siege  ; that  she  had  resisted  ; but 
that,  after  a long  struggle,  she  had  yielded,  and 
persuaded  her  uncle  to  take  her  to  Vaucouleurs, 
where  she  had  an  interview  with  the  Lord  of 
Baudricourt,  who,  on  her  departure  for  Chinon, 
had  said  to  her,  “ Go  ; and  may  the  will  of  God 
be  done  ! ” 

She  related  with  simplicity  her  presentation 
to  the  dauphin,  and  the  divine  intuition  which 
had  enabled  her  to  recognize  him  among  the 
crowd.  They  inquired  what  she  had  imparted 
secretly  to  him  ; but  she  would  not  tell,  because, 
by  so  doing,  she  must  have  revealed  the  doubts 
of  the  king  concerning  his  right  to  the  crown. 
Being  asked  whether  she  had  seen  any  super- 
natural sign,  or  beheld  some  celestial  being 
hovering  over  the  dauphin,  “ Excuse  me,”  she 
said  ; “ but  I cannot  answer  that.” 

She  was  remanded  to  her  dungeon  for  the 
night. 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


79 


X. 

The  bishop,  at  the  opening  of  the  third  ses- 
sion, again  admonished  her  to  tell  the  truth, 
even  respecting  affairs  of  state,  “ My  lord,” 
she  replied,  “ you  say  that  you  are  my  judge  : 
think  well  of  the  responsibility  you  have  as- 
sumed. You  are  not  my  judge  : you  are  my 
enemy  ! I came  from  God  : leave  me  to  the 
judgment  of  Him  who  sent  me.  Beware  what 
you  do  ; for  I am  in  truth  the  envoy  of  God, 
and  you  place  your  soul  in  great  peril.” 

They  resumed  their  interrogatories,  designing 
to  draw  from  her  some  avowal  by  which  they 
might  accuse  her  of  witchcraft.  “ Do  you  still 
hear  your  interior  voices  ?”  — “ Yes.”  — “ When 
did  you  last  hear  them?”  — “Yesterday,  and 
again  to-day.”  — “ What  were  you  doing  when 
they  spoke  to  you?”  — “I  was  asleep,  and  they 
waked  me.”  — “ You  threw  yourself  on  your 
knees?”  — “No;  but  I blessed  them  for  their 
consolation,  and  entreated  them  to  sustain  me  in 
my  distress.”  — “ Did  they  tell  you  that  they 
would  save  you  from  your  present  peril?”  — 
“ To  that  I have  nothing  to  answer.”  The 
bishop  pressing  her  still  further  with  questions, 
she  reminded  him  again  that  he  placed  his  soul  in 


80 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


great  danger  by  being  at  once  her  judge  and  her 
enemy.  “ The  little  children,”  added  she,  “ say 
that  the  innocent  are  often  hung  for  speaking  the 
truth.”  — “ Do  you  think  yourself  in  a state  of 
grace?  ” demanded  the  bishop.  “ If  I am  not,” 
she  replied,  “ may  it  please  God  to  receive  me 
into  grace  ! and,  if  I am,  may  it  please  him  to 
retain  me  there  ! ” 

Her  accusers  were  wholly  disconcerted  by  this 
simple  answer.  “ Did  you  hate  the  Duke  of 
Burgundy  when  you  were  vex-y  young?  ” — “I 
wished  very  much  that  the  dauphin  had  his  king- 
dom.” They  referi-ed  to  the  apparitions  she 
had  seen,  hoping  to  find  some  pretext  by  which 
they  might  accuse  her  of  magic.  She  re- 
lated  with  great  simplicity  the  visits  of  St.  Mi- 
chael, St.  Catherine,  and  St.  Margai’et.  They 
insisted  upon  knowing  all  that  those  spirits  had 
revealed  to  her.  “ The  revelations,”  she  replied, 
“ were  addressed  to  the  King  of  France,  and  not 
to  those  who  dare  thus  to  intei'rogate  me.”  — 
“ Were  the  spirits  naked  when  they  appeared  to 
you  ?”  — “ Think  you  that  the  King  of  Heaven 
cannot  clothe  his  messengers  in  garments  of 
light?”  — “Will  you  tell  us  by  what  evidence 
you  convinced  the  dauphin  of  your  divine  mis- 
sion ?”  — “I  have  already  said  that  I will  never 
speak  of  any  thing  touching  the  king.  Go  and 
inquire  of  him.” 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


81 


The  following  day,  they  demanded  if  her  voices 
had  predicted  her  escape  from  death.  “ That  has 
nothing  to  do  with  my  trial.  Do  you  wish  me 
to  speak  against  myself  ? My  trust  is  in  God. 
His  will  be  done  !”  — “ Wei-e  you  not  asked  to 
lay  aside  your  military  suit,  and  assume  the  gar- 
ments of  a woman?  ” — “ Yes  ; and  my  answer 
has  always  been,  that  I could  not  change  my 
dress  but  by  the  command  of  God.  The 
daughter  of  the  Lord  of  Luxemburg,  who  con- 
jured her  father  not  to  deliver  me  up  to  the 
English,  entreated  me  to  do  so  ; and  also  the 
ladies  of  Beaurevoir,  whilst  I was  a prisoner  in 
their  castle.  I told  them  I had  not  God’s  per- 
mission, and  that  the  time  had  not  yet  come. 
If  I could  have  done  it  innocently,  I would  have 
complied.” 

“Were  not  prayers  put  up  in  your  name  in 
the  camp  and  in  the  cities  ? ” — “ If  prayers  were 
offered  up  in  my  name,  I was  ignorant  of  it,  and 
certainly  never  would  have  given  my  consent  to 
it.  If  they  prayed  for  me,  there  was  surely  no 
crime  in  that.  Many,  it  is  true,  rejoiced  to  see 
me,  and  kissed  my  garments,  my  arms,  my 
standard,  and  whatever  came  within  their  reach  ; 
but  it  was  because  I never  treated  them  with 
coldness,  and  always  protected  them,  as  much 
as  I could,  from  the  calamities  of  war.  The 


82 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


women  and  the  girls  touched  my  ring  with 
theirs  ; but  I see  nothing  sinful  in  that. 

“ Whilst  I was  at  Rheims,  at  Château  Thierry, 
at  Lagny,  several  persons  solicited  me  to  stand 
god-mother  for  their  children,  and  I consented  ; 
but  I worked  no  miracles.  The  child  I stood 
for  at  Lagny  was  three  days  old  : it  was  very 
ill,  and  the  young  gii’ls  carried  it  to  Notre  Dame 
to  pray  for  its  restoration  to  health.  I went  with 
them  to  pray  at  the  altar  : the  child  gave  signs 
of  life,  its  lips  moved,  it  was  baptized,  and  died 
immediately.” 

“ Did  not  the  king  give  you  a coat-of-arms 
and  money  when  you  were  in  his  service  ?”  — 
“ The  king  bestowed  a coat-of-arms  upon  my 
brothers.  I received  nothing  from  him  but 
my  horses,  and  money  to  pay  my  board.”  They 
tried  to  extort  from  her  a confession  that  she 
had  taken  life  in  battle  ; but  she  declared  that 
she  had  never  shed  a drop  of  blood,  and  always 
carried  her  standard  in  her  hand  instead  of  a 
sword.  They  demanded  what  she  said  to  en- 
courage her  troops  in  battle.  “ I said,  ‘Assault 
the  English  boldly.  I will  lead  you  on!’”  — 
“ Have  you  ever  been  where  the  English  have 
been  slain  ?”  — “ Yes.  Why  did  they  not  leave 
France,  and  return  to  their  own  country?  My 
prices  reveal  many  things  to  me  aside  from  my 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


83 


trial,”  she  proceeded.  “Mark  well  my  words  • 
The  king  will  reconquer  the  whole  realm  of 
France.  In  less  than  seven  years,  the  English 
will  abandon  a greater  prize  than  Orleans. 
They  will  be  driven  out  of  France.  I know  this 
as  certainly  as  I know  that  you  sit  there  before 
me.  It  will  come  to  pass  within  seven  years.  I 
am  only  sorry  it  will  be  so  long  delayed.” 

Her  judges  were  awed  by  her  fearlessness  ; 
they  felt  that -her  bold  predictions  were  not  the 
result  of  transient  enthusiasm.  She  maintained 
them  during  the  whole  trial,  never  expressing 
the  shadow  of  a doubt  as  to  the  issue  of  the 
war. 

The  following  day,  they  demanded  if  the  ring 
she  wore  had  not  some  magical  inscription  upon 
it,  and  why  she  looked  at  it  during  a battle. 
“ Because  the  name  of  Jesus  is  engraved  upon 
it,  and  it  reminds  me  sweetly  of  my  father  and 
mother.”  — “ Why  did  you  have  your  standard 
carried  into  the  Cathedral  of  Rheims  at  the  coro- 
nation of  the  king?  ” — “ It  had  been  my  com- 
panion in  danger,”  she  said:  “ it  was  meet  to 
have  it  with  me  on  the  day  of  triumph.” 

That  day,  as  the  priest,  John  Massieu,  was 
conducting  her  back  to  prison,  a chorister  be- 
longing to  the  chapel  of  the  King  of  England 


84 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


demanded  of  him  bluntly  if  that  woman  was 
to  be  burnt.  “ Thus  far,”  replied  Massieu,  “ I 
have  seen  in  her  nothing  but  righteousness  and 
honor  ; but  I know  not  the  end.  God  only 
knows.”  The  Englishman  immediately  in- 
formed against  him,  and  his  life  was  in  great 
peril.  That  honest  ecclesiastic  had  previously 
been  loaded  with  insults  and  threats,  because 
one  day,  on  the  way  from  the  prison  to  the 
court,  he  permitted  Joan  to  stop  a moment  at 
the  entrance  of  the  chapel  of  the  castle  to  pray 
before  the  holy  sacrament  of  the  altar. 


XI. 

At  first  they  had  sought  to  beguile  the  young 
girl  through  her  simplicity  ; then  they  tried  her 
patriotism  ; now  they  attacked  her  conscience. 
The  attempt  here  must  be  successful.  The 
University  and  the  Inquisition  were  sold  to  the 
English  regent.  To  refuse  obedience  to  this 
body  would  be  represented  as  refusing  it  to  the 
Church,  and  she  would  be  pronounced  a heretic. 
On  the  other  hand,  to  submit  to  the  authority  of 
this  tribunal  would  be  treachery  to  her  king  and 
country.  “I  leave  myself  in  the  hands  of  my 
Supreme  Judge,”  she  replied  with  a sublime  in- 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


85 


spiration,  which  transferred  her  cause  from  a 
human  to  a divine  tribunal,  thus  confounding  her 
judges.  To  all  their  artful  questions  she  seven 
times  returned  the  same  simple  but  sublime 
answer.  “ Will  you  Submit  to  our  holy  father 
the  pope  ?”  — “ Lead  me  to  the  pope,  and  he  shall 
have  my  answer  in  person  ; but  what  God  has 
revealed  to  me,  neither  bishop  nor  pope  can 
prevent  my  believing.”  — “ If  you  do  not  believe 
in  the  Church  you  are  a heretic,  and  must  be 
burned  at  the  stake.”  — • “Although  I should  be- 
hold the  flames,  I would  say  nothing  but  what  I 
have  said.”  — “ If  the  general  council  were  here, 
vrould  you  submit  to  them  ?”  — “You  shall  not 
draw  from  me  another  word.”  — “We  will  put 
you  to  the  rack.”  — “Although  you  tear  me  limb 
from  limb,  and  separate  my  soul  from  my  body, 
I will  never  say  otherwise  than  I have  said.” 
The  rest  of  that  day,  she  uttered  no  word. 
Sorely  tried,  she  gave  vent  to  her  anguish  in 
prayer  to  be  delivered  from  temptation  : “ Most 
merciful  God,  I entreat  thee,  by  thy  passion, 
that,  if  thou  lovest  me,  thou  wilt  inspire  me  with 
such  answers  as  I ought  to  make  to  these  ec- 
clesiastics. I know  well  what  I should  say 
regarding  my  life  ; but  as  to  the  rest,  I hear 
nothing  fi’om  my  voices.”  Her  mental  conflict, 
more  terrible  than  the  dungeon,  the  chains,  or 


86 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


even  death  itself,  brought  on  an  illness,  which  in- 
terrupted the  public  trial  ; but  the  bishop  and 
his  coadjutors  followed  her  even  to  the  foot 
of  the  pillar,  where  she  languished,  loaded  with 
fetters,  prostrated  with  fever,  agonized  in  spirit. 
They  demanded  if  she  would  submit  her  cause 
to  the  general  council,  then  sitting  at  Basle. 
“ What  is  a general  council?  ” she  gently  asked. 
“ It  is  an  assembly  of  all  Christendom,”  replied 
a monk,  Isambard,  one  of  the  assessors.  “ There 
are  as  many  belonging  to  your  party  as  to  that 
of  the  English.”  — “ Oh  ! if  in  that  meeting  there 
are  any  of  our  side,  I am  willing  to  submit  to 
the  Council  of  Basle.”  — “ Hold  your  tongue,  by 
God  ! ” cried  the  exasperated  Cauchon  ; and, 
boldly  throwing  off  the  mask  of  hypocrisy,  he  for- 
bade the  notaries  to  register  her  words.  “ Alas  ! ” 
said  she,  turning  her  eyes  beseechingly  on  the 
bishop,  “ you  write  all  that  is  against  me  ; but 
you  Avili  not  register  what  is  in  my  favor.” 
Warwick,  having  been  informed  of  what  had 
happened,  and  meeting  Isambard  in  the  even- 
ing, loaded  him  with  insults,  and  threatened  to 
have  him  thrown  into  the  Seine  ; and  the  prison 
was  hereafter  closed,  even  to  Cauchon. 

So  intense  was  the  desire  for  her  execution, 
that  the  English  trembled  lest  death  should  rob 
them  of  their  victim.  “ I would  not  for  the 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


87 


world  have  her  die  a natural  death  ! ” said  War- 
wick to  her  physicians.  “ The  king  has  purchased 
her  at  too  high  a price  not  to  see  her  burned 
alive.  Cure  her  as  speedily  as  possible.” 

The  bishop,  nevertheless,  once  more  gained 
access  to  her  prison,  and  represented  to  her  the 
peril  of  her  soul  if  she  should  die  without  being 
reconciled  to  the  Church.  “ It  seems  to  me,” 
she  replied,  “that  I am  so  ill,  I am  in  great 
danger  of  death.  If  it  should  be  so,  God’s  will 
be  done  : I only  wish  to  confess  my  sins,  and  to 
be  bui’ied  in  consecrated  ground.”  He  asked 
her  if  the  Church  should  offer  up  prayers  for  her 
recovery.  “ May  the  righteous  pray  for  me  ! ” 
she  replied. 

They  revived  the  accusation  of  suicide,  found- 
ed on  her  reckless  attempt  to  escape  from  the 
Chateau  de  Beaurevoir.  She  confessed  that  the 
thought  of  being  a captive  while  her  king  and 
her  people  were  shedding  their  blood  had  driven 
her  to  distraction.  In  that  state,  she  had  pre- 
cipitated herself  from  the  battlement,  at  the 
risk  of  her  life  ; but  that  she  had  seen  her  fault, 
and  asked  pardon  of  her  heavenly  Father. 


88 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


XII. 

Her  youth  aided  her  recovery  ; and  she  was 
saved  from  one  death  only  to  meet  another  more 
a.ppalling.  The  insults,  the  outrages,  the  joy, 
and  the  songs  of  her  jailers  announced  to  her 
the  approaching  sentence  of  condemnation. 
Three  soldiers  slept  in  her  chamber.  They 
talked  loudly  of  satisfying  their  lust  before  her 
execution.  She  trembled  in  secret  at  their 
threatened  outrage,  and  guarded  vigilantly  her 
man’s  apparel,  determined  to  defend  her  chas- 
tity unto  death.  One  day,  through  a touching 
feeling  of  modesty,  she  prayed,  that  if  she  were 
condemned  and  stripped,  as  was  the  custom, 
they  would  grant  her  the  favor  of  a long  gar- 
ment when  she  was  executed.  Indeed,  she 
added  that  she  believed  God  would  work  a mira- 
cle rather  than  she  should  be  so  debased. 

During  Holy  Week  and  the  day  of  the  resur- 
rection, which  Christians  assemble  to  celebrate, 
Joan  felt  more  painfully  her  solitude,  and  her 
separation  from  the  flock  of  Christ.  The  joyous 
sound  of  the  bells  of  Easter,  ringing  in  the  res- 
urrection of  the  Saviour,  fell  like  mockery  on 
her  desolate  and  stricken  heart. 

The  University  of  Paris,  when  consulted  rela- 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


89 


tive  to  the  interrogations  and  answers  of  the 
verbal  process,  pronounced  her  possessed  of  the 
Devil,  impious  in  her  conduct  towards  her  fami- 
ly, and  thirsting  for  the  blood  of  the  faithful  ; 
hut  the  lawyers  who  were  consulted  accused 
her  of  no  crime  save  obstinacy  in  her  errors. 

The  Inquisition  and  the  Bishop  of  Beauvais, 
intimidated  by  the  clamor  of  the  people,  whose 
hearts  began  to  be  melted  with  pity  for  this  un- 
fortunate and  innocent  girl,  pretended  to  relent, 
and  to  be  satisfied  with  condemning  her  to  per- 
petual imprisonment,  instead  of  death.  They 
therefore  made  a last  attempt  to  draw  from  their 
victim  a confession  of  her  obstinacy  ; hoping 
thus  to  conciliate  the  populace  by  their  seeming 
lenity,  and  gratify  the  hatred  of  the  English  by 
the  severity  of  her  punishment. 


XIII. 

The  prisoner  was  dragged  from  the  darkness 
of  the  dungeon,  where  she  had  languished  for 
four  months,  that  her  judges  might  torture  her 
in  public.  They  ordered  two  scaffolds  to  be 
erected  in  the  Cemetery  of  St.  Ouen,  behind  the 
church.  The  Cardinal  of  Winchester,  the  Bishop 
of  Beauvais,  the  judges,  the  churchmen,  the 


90 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


assessors,  the  representatives  of  the  University, 
were  seated  upon  one.  Joan,  hound  hand  and 
foot,  tied  to  a post  by  a chain  around  her  waist, 
surrounded  by  notaries  prepared  to  register 
every  word  that  fell  from  her  lips,  and  by  exe- 
cutioners, armed  with  their  instruments  of  tor- 
ture, ready  to  put  her  to  the  rack,  stood  opposite, 
on  the  other  scaffold. 

The  immense  and  superstitious  crowd,  awed 
by  this  imposing  spectacle,  and  divided  between 
respect  for  the  civil  and  religious  authorities, 
fear  of  the  foreign  soldiery,  horror  of  this  pre- 
tended sorceress,  and  pity  for  the  young  girl, 
whose  beauty  was  even  more  touching  overshad- 
owed by  the  hand  of  death,  trembled  as  they 
gazed  upon  this  scene  from  the  square  and  the 
surrounding  house-tops. 

A celebrated  preacher,  William  Erard,  ad- 
dressed Joan,  and  endeavored  by  every  art  to 
win  from  her  a confession  of  her  sins,  and  entire 
submission  to  the  decision  of  the  Church  re- 
specting the  rights  of  the  two  belligerent  powers. 
“O  noble  house  of  France,”  he  exclaimed, 
thinking  to  strengthen  his  arguments  by  this 
pathetic  appeal  to  the  house  of  Yalois,  “ thou 
who  hast  ever  been  the  guardian  of  the  faith, 
how  hast  thou  fallen  from  grace  by  thus  attach- 
ing thyself  to  a schismatic  and  a heretic  ! Yes, 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


91 


Joan,  it  is  of  thee  I speak,”  he  added  in  a voice 
of  thunder  ; “it  is  to  thee  I say  that  thy  king  is 
a schismatic  and  a heretic.” 

Joan,  who  had  listened  in  silence  to  all  the 
insults  and  abuse  which  had  been  directed  against 
herself,  could  not  suppress  her  indignation  when 
her  sovereign  was  assailed.  “ By  my  faith, 
sire  ! ” she  cried,  “ I swear  that  he  is  the  noblest 
of  Christians.  There  lives  not  one  more  devoted 
to  the  Church  and  the  holy  faith  : he  merits  none 
of  the  impious  titles  you  have  bestowed  upon 
him.” — “Stop  her  mouth!”  cried  the  Bishop 
of  Beauvais.  The  officers  imposed  silence  upon 
her. 

The  bishop  then  read  a form  of  abjuration, 
which  he  conjured  her  to  accept.  “ I am  will- 
ing to  submit  to  the  pope,”  replied  Joan.  “ The 
pope  is  too  far  off,”  said  Cauchon.  “ Well,  let 
her  be  burnt  ! ” said  the  preacher.  The  nota- 
ries, the  executioners,  the  populace,  all  entreated 
her  to  sign  this  act  of  recantation,  which  only 
involved  a confession  of  her  sins  of  ignorance, 
without  disavowing  her  cause  or  her  sentiments. 
“ Well,”  said  she,  “ I will  sign  it.” 

At  these  words,  a murmur  of  relief  rose  from 
the  crowd.  The  Bishop  of  Beauvais  demanded 
of  Winchester  what  he  should  do.  “You  must 
admit  her  confession  and  repentance,”  said  the 


92 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


Englishman.  This  was  to  grant  her  life. 
Whilst  the  courtiers  were  wrangling  with  the 
Bishop  of  Beauvais  on  the  scaffold,  declaring 
that  he  had  favored  the  accused,  and  whilst  he 
was  angrily  repelling  the  charge,  a secretary  ap- 
proached Joan,  and  presented  her  with  a pen  to 
sign  the  recantation,  which  she  could  not  even 
read.  The  poor  girl,  smiling,  blushed  at  her  ig- 
norance, as  she  tried  to  guide  the  pen  with  those 
fingers  which  had  so  skilfully  managed  the 
sword.  She  traced,  under  the  direction  of  the 
secretary,  a circle,  and  in  the  centre  a cross. 
Then  they  read  her  the  sentence,  which  con- 
demned her  to  pass  the  rest  of  her  life  in  prison, 
there  to  deplore  her  sins,  to  eat  the  bread  of 
sorrow,  and  drink  the  water  of  affliction. 

At  these  words,  the  partisans  of  the  regent, 
and  the  English  soldiers,  disappointed  in  their 
hope  of  revenge,  began  to  move  tumultuously 
round  the  tribunal,  picking  up  the  stones  and 
bones  scattered  about  the  cemetery,  and  throw- 
ing them  upon  the  scaffold  at  the  cardinal,  the 
bishop,  the  judges,  and  the  assessors.  “ Miser- 
able, dastardly  priests,  you  betray  the  king  ! ” 
The  judges,  to  escape  the  storm  of  stones,  and 
to  pass  through  the  crowd  in  safety,  said  to  the 
most  furious,  “Be  quiet:  the  sentence  will  soon 
be  reversed  ! ” 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


93 


XIV. 

Joan  was  less  astonished  at  the  death  which 
she  foresaw  awaited  her  than  at  the  hatred  of 
a people  to  whom  her  heart  clung  with  so  much 
tenderness.  She  re-entered  the  castle,  pursued 
by  the  execrations  of  the  multitude,  there  to 
endure  her  fetters,  and  bè  subjected  anew 
to  the  devices  and  outrages  of  her  enemies. 
Whilst  she  slept,  they  stole  the  female  apparel 
which  she  had  worn  upon  the  scaffold  as  an 
evidence  of  her  obedience  ; thus  compelling  her 
to  resume  her  military  dress,  which  they  placed 
beside  her  bed.  Hardly  had  she  put  it  on, 
when  they  called  the  bishop  to  detect  her  in 
this  relapse.  He  scolded  her  violently,  accus- 
ing her  of  backsliding  after  her  abjuration. 
She  protested  solemnly  that  she  had  abjured 
nothing  but  her  sins,  and  that  she  would  rather 
die  than  live  thus  chained  to  the  pillar  of  a 
dungeon. 

Cauchon,  convinced  that  nothing  would  sa- 
tiate the  malice  and  hatred  of  his  party  but  the 
éxecution  of  this  girl,  whose  very  existence, 
even  in  the  depths  of  her  prison,  recalled  the 
defeats  of  the  English  and  the  treachery  of  the 
Burgundians,  no  longer  contested  this  point  with 


94 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


Warwick.  He  persuaded  the  lawyers  and  the 
judges  of  the  duty  of  punishing  her  impeni- 
tence with  death  ; and  the  ecclesiastics  delivered 
her  over  to  the  civil  power,  hoping,  like  Pilate, 
to  wash  their  hands  of  the  blood  of  this  just 
person. 

The  monk  Isambart  announced  to  her  the 
decree  condemning  her  to  the  stake.  “ Alas, 
alas  ! ” she  cried,  raising  her  chained  hands  in 
an  agony  of  grief.  “ Will  they  treat  me  so 
cruelly  ? I had  rather  be  beheaded  seven  times 
than  to  be  burned  alive.  O my  God  ! to  thee 
I appeal  from  the  injustice  of  the  sufferings 
which  are  heaped  upon  me.” 

They  granted  her,  as  a last  favor,  the  com- 
munion of  the  dying  in  her  dungeon.  The 
inmates  of  the  castle,  and  the  bishop,  were  pres- 
ent at  this  solemn  feast.  On  perceiving  him, 
she  said  in  a tone  of  gentle  reproach,  “ Bishop, 
I die  through  you.”  She  recognized  also  one 
of  the  pi’iests  who  had  admonished  her  before 
the  trial,  and  with  whom  she  had  contracted 
that  sort  of  familiarity  which  exists  between  a 
prisoner  and  a visitor.  “ Ah,  Master  Pierre  ! ” 
said  she,  melting  into  tears,  “ where  shall  I be 
to-night  ? ” 

They  restored  her  woman’s  apparel,  that  she 
might  prepare  for  the  scaffold.  She  was  placed 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


95 


on  the  fatal  cart  beside  her  confessor.  The 
monk  Isambart  followed  her  on  foot,  praying 
for  her  salvation,  and  manifesting  the  teuderest 
pity  at  the  foot  of  the  scaffold. 

Suddenly  a great  tumult  arose  in  the  crowd. 
A man,  deathly  pale,  rushed  through  the  guards, 
and,  throwing  himself  on  his  knees  before  the 
cart,  supplicated  Joan  to  forgive  him,  with  sobs 
and  bitter  tears.  It  was  L’Oiseleur,  the  priest 
hired  by  Cauchon  to  draw  from  her,  under  seal 
of  the  confessional,  avowals  of  her  guilt.  The 
English  would  have  massacred  him  on  the  spot, 
but  for  the  intervention  of  Warwick,  who  or- 
dered him  instantly  to  quit  the  city,  if  he  would 
escape  a violent  death. 

The  bishop,  the  inquisitor,  the  University, 
the  judges,  waited  her  arrival  upon  an  estrade 
opposite  a hillock  covered  with  dry  wood,  pre- 
pared for  the  human  sacrifice.  When  the  cart 
stopped  at  the  foot  of  the  platform,  “ Depart  in 
peace,”  said  the  preacher,  in  the  name  of  the 
judges.  “ The  Church  can  no  longer  spread 
over  thee  her  protecting  ægis  : she  surrenders 
thee  to  the  secular  arm.”  Vain  and  cruel  pre- 
tence of  those  who  had  pronounced  the  verdict, 
and  who  imposed  upon  others  the  work  of  exe- 
cuting their  infamous  decree  ! Joan  knelt  down 
in  the  cart,  not  to  ask  life  of  her  merciless 


96 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


judges,  but  to  plead  with  God  for  the  pardon 
of  the  bishop  and  the  priests  who  condemned 
her  to  the  flames.  She  clasped  her  hands, 
bowed  her  head,  and  addressing  herself,  some- 
times to  her  angelic  guardians,  sometimes  to 
her  executioners,  she  invoked  their  assistance, 
their  compassion,  and  their  prayers,  in  accents 
so  tender,  and  with  such  heart-rending  sobs, 
that  at  the  sight  of  her  youth,  her  innocence, 
and  her  beauty,  about  to  be  reduced  to  ashes, 
and  the  sound  of  this  cry,  which  seemed  al- 
most to  issue  from  the  flames,  the  judges,  the  in- 
quisitors, the  soldiers,  Winchester,  even  the  Bish- 
op of  Beauvais,  melted  into  tears.  Some  of  them, 
unable  to  endure  the  sight  of  that  countenance 
and  the  sound  of  that  voice,  fearing  that  they 
would  be  overpowered  by  compassion,  descended 
from  the  platform,  and  mingled  in  the  crowd. 

The  dying  girl  then  confessed,  in  a clear  and 
audible  voice,  the  errors  of  which  she  might 
have  been  guilty  during  her  mission  on  earth. 
Then  she  entreated  them  to  give  her  the  cross, 
that  she  might  receive  strength  by  contemplat- 
ing the  symbol  of  the  crucifixion  of  her  Re- 
deemer ; but  they  remained  deaf  to  her  prayer, 
till  an  Englishman,  touched  with  pity,  handed 
her  one,  which  he  made  of  two  rough  twigs 
tied  together.  She  took  it,  pressed  it  with  ten- 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


97 


derness  to  her  lips,  and,  opening  her  dress,  laid 
it  upon  her  heart.  The  monk  Isambart,  atten- 
tive to  her  slightest  wish,  seeing  her  desire  so 
poorly  gratified,  performed  an  act  of  bold  gen- 
erosity, at  the  risk  of  seeming  impious  in  his 
compassion.  He  ran  to  a neighboring  church, 
and,  seizing  the  cross  which  stood  beside  the 
altar,  hastened  to  put  it  in  her  hands. 

The  executioners  led  her  to  the  stake.  Her 
confessor  ascended  the  funeral-pyre  with  her, 
whispering  pious  encouragements  in  her  ear. 
So  completely  was  he  absorbed,  that  he  did  not 
notice  the  approach  of  the  flames.  Joan,  whose 
presence  of  mind  and  self-forgetfulness  had  not 
forsaken  her,  saw  his  danger,  and  exclaimed, 
“O  Jesus!  G6,  my  father;  and,  when  the 
flames  envelop  me,  elevate  the  cross,  that  my 
dying  eyes  may  see  it  ; and  speak  to  me  holy 
words  even  to  the  end.”  Then,  looking  with 
compassion  on  the  people,  so  eager  to  behold  the 
body  of  their  deliverer  wrapped  in  flames,  she 
wept,  crying  out,  “ O Rouen,  Rouen  ! I fear 
that  one  day  thou  wilt  have  to  expiate  my 
death  ! ” 

The  Bishop  of  Beauvais,  to  obtain  a last 
justification  of  his  sentence  by  some  accusa- 
tions of  the  dying  girl  against  herself,  drew  near 
the  stake.  “ Bis'hop,  bishop  ! ” she  exclaimed, 
7 


98 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


in  a voice  which  seemed  to  issue  from  the 
grave,  “I  die  by  you  ! ” Then,  raising  her 
voice,  she  said  with  rapture,  “ Yes,  my  voices 
were  from  God  ! ” 

Deep  silence  succeeded  to  the  tumult  of  the 
exasperated  crowd.  It  seemed  as  though  this 
tempestuous  sea  of  men  was  suddenly  stilled  to 
catch  the  last  sigh  of  the  expiring  martyr.  A 
cry  of  agony  issued  from  the  flames  : they  had 
caught  her  dress  and  hair.  “ Water,  water  ! ” 
she  cried  : it  was  the  last  instinct  of  nature. 
Enveloped  by  the  flames  which  swept  round 
her  like  a whirlwind,  confused  words  alone 
escaped  her  lips.  . . . Her  head  fell  forward 
upon  her  breast.  . . . “ Jesus  ! ” she  sighed  ; 
and  her  great  soul  returned  to  God  who  gave 
it. 

All  that  remained  of  the  savior  of  France  was 
a little  ashes,  which  the  Cardinal  of  Winchester 
had  cast  into  the  Seine,  that  no  vestige  might 
remain  on  the  soil  of  France  of  the  spirit  and 
the  prowess  of  this  peasant-girl,  who  had  dis- 
puted with  him  the  supremacy  of  the  kingdom. 

„ He  was  mistaken.  Joan  of  Arc  was  dead  ; 
but  France  was  saved. 

Such  was  the  life  of  Joan  of  Arc.  To  en- 
shrine her  among  the  most  sublime  and  touch- 


JOAN  OF  ARC. 


99 


ing  characters  of  history,  we  need  neither  super- 
stition nor  imagination.  Her  oppressed  country 
breathed  into  the  pure  soul  of  this  maid  its 
passion  for  liberty.  All  pertaining  to  her  life 
seems  a mii’acle  : yet  the  miracle  is  neither  in 
her  visions,  her  standard,  nor  her  sword  ; it  is 
herself.  She  is  the  chaste  image  of  her  coun- 
try, endeared  by  beauty,  saved  by  the  sword, 
and  consecrated  through  martyrdom. 


APPENDIX. 


The  following  extracts  from  Murray’s  “ Guide- 
book for  France,”  concerning  the  few  surviving 
memorials  of  the  “ Maid  of  Orleans,”  may  be 
interesting  to  the  reader. 

Domrémy. — The  humble  cottage  in  which  Joan 
was  born,  having  always  been  treated  with  a sort 
of  veneration,  is  preserved,  somewhat  altered, 
in  an  enclosure  near  the  church.  It  stands  be- 
tween two  buildings,  public  schools  for  girls  of 
the  distinct,  erected  by  the  department  of  Vosges 
as  a monument  to  the  memory  of  the  virgin. 
Louis  Philippe  presented  to  the  cottage  a copy 
of  the  beautiful  statue  of  Joan  of  Arc  by  his 
own  daughter,  the  Princess  Marie,  “ another 
inspired  Maid  of  Orleans.” 

The  only  favor  Joan  ever  solicited  from  the 
king,  for  whom  she  had  etfected  so  much,  was 
that  her  native  village  should  be  exempt  from 
every  tax.  This  privilege  was  granted,  and 

101 


102 


APPENDIX. 


remained  in  force  until  the  Revolution.  In  the 
Registry-book  of  Taxes,  the  space  opposite  the 
name  Domrémy  was  filled  up  with  the  words, 
“ Nothing  ; for  the  sake  of  the  Virgin.” 

Chinon  possesses  a deep  interest  for  those 
who  venerate  and  love  the  Maid  of  Orleans. 
This  was  the  place  where  she  made  her  first 
public  appearance.  Here  she  had  that  memora- 
ble interview  with  the  dauphin.  The  remains 
of  the  castle  are  of  vast  extent  : they  occupy  the 
summit  of  a lofty  platform  of  rock,  rising  nearly 
three  hundred  feet  above  the  town  and  the  river. 
A natural  escarpment  surrounds  it  on  three 
sides.  Where  the  cliff  was  not  naturally  verti- 
cal, it  has  been  cut  away  ; and  huge  walls  of 
smooth  masonry  have  been  built  to  a level  with 
the  top  of  the  cliff.  A deep  fosse,  or  ditch,  is  cut 
through  the  rock  on  the  fourth  side,  to  isolate  the 
promontory  from  the  ridge,  of  which  it  forms 
the  termination. 

The  royal  apartments  are  still  shown,  and 
the  very  room  iu  which  the  Maid  first  saw  and 
singled  out  the  dauphin  ; but  they  are  in  a 
deplorably  dilapidated  condition,  and  open  to 
the  sky.  No  tradition  is  preserved  of  the  cha- 
teau in  which  Joan  resided  during  the  two  days 
before  she  gained  access  to  the  dauphin  ; nor 


APPENDIX. 


103 


can  the  church  be  pointed  out  in  which  she  spent 
most  of  each  day  in  prayer.  It  was  at  Chinon 
that  she  first  girt  on  the  mysterious  sword  found 
in  the  Church  of  St.  Catherine  of  Fierbois  ; and 
here  she  unfurled  her  white  banner,  sprinkled 
with  fleurs  de  lis , made  for  her  under  the  direc- 
tion of  her  “ voices.” 

Orleans.  — Nearly  every  memorial  of  Joan 
of  Arc  has  been  swept  away.  There  is,  how- 
ever, a street  called  by  her  name.  An  ancient 
statue,  erected  on  the  bridge  soon  after  her 
death,  was  broken  to  pieces  by  the  revolution- 
ists of  1792  to  melt  into  cannon.  An  equestrian 
statue  of  her  was  erected  on  the  Place  du  Mar- 
troy  in  1855.  In  the  council-hall  of  the  Hô- 
tel de  la  Marie  is  a portrait,  painted  in  1581, 
which  apparently  deserves  little  confidence  as  a 
likeness.  She  is  dressed  in  the  female  costume 
of  the  fashion  of  Francis  I.  Louis  Philippe 
presented  to  the  city  a bronze  caste  of  the 
statue,  modelled  by  his  gifted  daughter  ; by  far 
the  worthiest  representation  of  the  inspired 
maid. 

The  house  in  which  she  lodged  is  only  in 
part  left  standing  : the  chamber  she  occupied  is 
removed,  and  a sort  of  pavilion  occupies  its 
place.  The  scene  of  the  chief  exploits  of  Joan 


104 


APPENDIX. 


was  the  old  bridge,  wjiich  stood  much  higher 
up  the  river  than  the  present  one,  and  rested  in 
the  centre,  on  an  island.  It  was  from  this  island 
that  she  watched  the  battle,  and  threw  herself 
into  a boat  to  go  and  rally  the  faltering  troops. 
Opposite»to  the  spot  where  the  old  bridge  termi- 
nated stands  a small  cross,  called  “ Cross  of  the 
Virgin.”  The  fort  is  now  only  a damp,  dirty 
cellar  ; possessing  this  interest  alone,  — that  it  is, 
perhaps,  the  only  remaining  relic  of  the  siege. 

Compiegne. — The  spot  where  the  inspired 
maid  was  captured  is  marked  by  the  ruins  of 
the  Tour  tie  la  Pucelle,  near  the  ancient  gate- 
way of  the  old  bridge. 

Rouen.  — The  Place  de  la  Pucelle  serves 
to  record  the  fate  of  Joan  of  Arc,  who  was 
burned  alive  here  on  the  spot  marked  to-day  by 
the  contemptible  modern  statue  which  bears  her 
name,  and  stands  upon  a pump. 

It  was  not  until  twenty-four  years  after  her 
martyrdom  that  a papal  bull  proclaimed  her 
innocence,  and  a cross  was  raised  by  her  coun- 
trymen on  the  spot  where  she  had  been  bound 
to  the  stake.  The  great  tower  of  the  old  castle 
in  which  she  was  imprisoned  was  demolished 
in  1780. 


APPENDIX. 


105 


“ In  the  Musée  des  Monuments  Français,  at 
Paris,  there  is  a portrait  of  singular  interest. 
It  is  apparently  that  of  a young  girl,  some 
twenty  years  of  age,  whose  countenance  wears 
a soft  and  dreamy  beauty,  which  long  haunts 
the  memory  of  the  beholder.  Upon  her  head  is 
a martial  cap  with  feathers,  and  in  her  hand  a 
shield  and  sword.  It  is  Joan  of  Arc,  the  shep- 
herd-maid, whose  memory,  for  years  assailed  by 
detraction,  now  grows  brighter  as  time  develops 
her  character  and  her  virtues.”  — Boston  Tran- 
script. 

“ The  original  statue  modelled  by  the  Princess 
Marie,  adorns,  or  rather  sanctifies,,  the  halls  of 
Versailles.”  — Atlantic  Monthly. 

“ There  may  he  no  reliable  portrait  of  Joan  ; 
yet  who  would  not  ascribe  to  her  the  very  form 
and  features  so  exquisitely  moulded  by  the 
Princess  Maine,  1 who  seems  to  have  had  a soul 
pure  enough  to  reflect  the  image  of  the  Maid  of 
Orleans,  and  to  embody  the  vision  in  marble  ’ ? 
Who  that  has  ever  trodden  the  gorgeous  galle- 
ries of  Versailles  has  not  fondly  lingered  before 
that  noble  work  of  art,  that  touching  impersona- 
tion of  the  Christian  heroine,  the  head  meekly 
bended,  and  the  hands  devoutly  clasping  the 


106 


APPENDIX. 


sword,  in  sign  of  the  cross  ; firm  resolution  im- 
printed on  those  closely-pressed  lips,  and 
beaming  from  that  lofty  brow?  Whose  thoughts, 
as  he  paused  to  gaze,  and  gaze  again,  would  not 
wander  to  the  sculptress  so  highly  gifted  in 
talent,  in  fortunes,  in  hopes  of  happiness,  yet 
doomed  to  an  end  so  grievous  and  untimely. 
Thus  the  statue  has  grown  to  be  a monument 
not  only  to  the  memory  of  ‘the  holy  virgin,’ 
but  to  her  own  ; and  thus  future  generations  of 
France  will  love  to  blend  the  artist  with  the 
martyr, — Marie  of  Wurtemberg  with  Joan  of 
Arc.”  — London  Quarterly  Review. 


THE  END» 


INDEX, 


3? art  First. 

Page. 

Introduction 5 

Condition  of  France 5 

Childhood  of  Joan 7 

Her  Youth  .........  9 

Her  First  Vision 12 

Her  Interview  with  the  Lord  of  Baudricourt  . . 18 

Her  Departure  for  Chinon 21 

Her  Reception  by  the  Court  of  Charles  VII.  ...  23 

Examination  of  Joan  before  the  University  at  Poitiers  . 27 

Arrival  of  the  Maid  before  Orleans  ....  31 

Her  First  Engagement  with  the  Enemy  ...  37 

Attack  upon  the  Fortresses  on  the  Left  Bank  of  the  Loire,  40 
Defeat  and  Surrender  of  Gladsdale  ....  43 

Raising  of  the  Siege  of  Orleans 45 

Defeat  of  Suffolk  at  Jergeau 47 

Defeat  and  Capture  of  Talbot 48 

The  French  before  Troyes 49 

Coronation  of  the  King  at  Rheims 52 

J?art  Second. 

Departure  of  Charles  for  Paris 55 

Enthusiasm  of  the  Peasantry 56 

Defeat  of  the  French  before  Paris  .....  58 

A Truce  concluded 60 

Siege  of  St.  Pierre  le  Moutier 61 

Resumption  of  Hostilities 61 


107 


108 


INDEX. 


Page. 

Joan  at  Compïègne .62 

Her  Capture 63 

She  is  delivered  up  to  the  Lord  of  Luxemburg  . . 65 

Peter  Cauchon,  Bishop  of  Beauvais  ....  67 

Joan  is  sold  to  the  English 67 

Her  Attempt  to  escape  from  the  Castle  of  Beaurevoir  . 68 

She  is  taken  to  Rouen 69 

Relief  of  Compiègne 69 

Luxemburg  visits  Joan  in  Prison 70 

Villany  of  Cauchon 72 

Formation  of  the  Tribunal 73 

Commencement  of  the  Trial 75 

Interruption  of  the  Proceedings,  consequent  upon  the 

Illness  of  Joan 85 

The  Mock  Trial  in  the  Cemetery  of  St.  Ouen  . . 89 

Condemnation  of  Joan  of  Arc 93 

Her  Death .97 

Conclusion 98 

Appendix. 

Domrémy 101 

Chinon 102 

Orleans 103 

Compiègne 104 

Rouen 104 

Portrait  and  Statue  of  Joan  of  Arc  ....  105 

A 


Ill 

11 

III 

1 

III 

D 

30416 

Î687Y 

